Slow Dance
by Shikatanai
Summary: HPSS: Non HBP: With two months left of school, Harry and Sev are having trouble hiding their relationship from those they care about. Focuses on character reactions. COMPLETE.
1. Dusty Closets

**A/N:** This is a repost of the story "Your Body is a Wonderland." That was taken down due to the fact it was a song fic. (Insert fierce scowl here.) Never mind that the song was there so I didn't have to write an explicit lemon… Anyway, this is almost the same story. I'm editing it again to reduce spelling and grammar errors that escaped last time. I will also remove the song, but that really doesn't effect the story. Other than that; read and enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter One: Dusty Closets

* * *

**"Where's Harry?" 

"Dunno. He told me he would meet us here after he was done with detention."

"That's odd. I thought his detention was tomorrow."

"Yeah, he has another tomorrow. Poor bloke's got detention with the greasy git every day this week."

"Oh! I thought they were starting to tolerate each other now…"

"Not bloody likely! If anything, they despise each other more. Have you seen the looks they throw at each other, Hermione? I don't envy Harry at all."

"Well, no matter. It's almost curfew now, so he should be heading back here soon. We can talk with him then."

**

* * *

**Harry sighed and ran his hand through his disheveled black hair. Damn, it sounded as if he ought to tread softly in the future so as not to incur Hermione's curiosity. He'd warn Sev to tone it down with the detentions. It was a good thing that Ron was too dense to read the real emotions behind all those looks—if anybody found out about his relationship with his Potions Master… _Well, let's just say it wouldn't _be_ a relationship anymore. Knowing Fudge and the Ministry, they would lock Sev up for being a pedophile._ Harry snorted quietly. _As if I ever got the luxury of being a kid. _

Resolutely steering his thoughts away from that rather depressing direction, Harry took a deep breath. It took every ounce of acting that he'd learned over his past 17 years of life to paste on the look of utter hatred that his friends expected. After all, he'd supposedly just been to Hell, courtesy of Professor 'Greasy Git' Snape. Opening the door to the seventh year boys' dorm, he swept in, pretending that he hadn't just overheard Ron and Hermione talking.

"Hey guys. Sorry I'm late—the snarky bastard seems to take an insanely large amount of sadistic pleasure in making me do menial labor." Internally Harry winced at his harsh words. He hated having to talk about Severus this way. Bitterly he continued, "I swear, if I have to look at that overgrown bat one more time this week—" _I'm going to loose my self-control and ravish the sexy beast. _"—then I'm going to loose the last of my self control and strangle him."

Ron winced sympathetically at the bitter quality in his friend's voice. Yes, Harry _was_ slightly bitter, but it certainly wasn't because he had to spend time with Severus! No, but if they wanted to be together, they had to stick it out.

"Only two months left." Harry mumbled under his breath, throwing himself face down onto his bed. "Only two more months of this hell."

"Oh, it isn't _that_ bad." Hermione said with exasperation, moving over to sit on Harry's bed. "I know Snape can be a real git, but you have to admit that he knows what he's talking about when it comes to Potions. I mean, he's probably not even that bad when you get to know him. For all we know he's a perfectly decent human being who just happens to hate kids!"

Harry threw her a look of astonishment that she misread completely. "Oh grow _up_, Harry! I'd've figured that reaction from Ron, not you."

"Heeey…" Ron began, frowning at Hermione's implied slight. "That's not nice, Mione."

"Yes, well, it's the truth, and don't try to deny it—I saw the way you glared at me when I was talking with Harry."

"Yeah, but still! Snape?"

"Please, Ron. It's not like I'm telling Harry to fall in love with him! I'm _just _saying that the man deserves some respect."

Harry just about choked and Ron grew red in the face at the implications of Hermione's statement.

"Please don't, Mione—Snape and Harry? That's sick! You okay there, mate?" he asked, peering over at Harry, who was currently coughing heavily. "I mean, if she's disturbing you too much…"

"_Ron_, I already _said_ that I'm not saying anything of the sort! Everyone knows Harry has a thing for your sister anyway."

_Yeah,_ Harry thought as he buried his flaming face in his pillow, _Everyone but Gin and me. _He studiously ignored his two friends as they continued to bicker good-naturedly over his head. Yeah, Ginny and he were close friends, and getting closer—ever since Hermione and Ron had become a couple, they seemed to have less and less time for him, and the time they did have… Well, as the now kissing couple reminded him, in many aspects the trio had long since become a duo with a third wheel. Not that he doubted their sincere friendship and care for his well being! But still—sometimes it was really difficult.

Ginny, on the other hand, had revealed herself as someone Harry could genuinely like and respect. She was intelligent, had a great sense of humor, and was much more fun to be around now that she'd gotten over the debilitating crush she'd had on him for years. After the incident in her first year she had become slightly introverted outside of Gryffindor—but not with most of the current Seventh Years, and most definitely not with Harry. If knocking out a mountain troll was enough for Hermione, Ron and himself to become best friends, well, how much more binding would that foray into the Chamber of Secrets be?

_I wish it were Ginny in here with me right now, _Harry thought longingly. _I wish I dared tell her everything that's been on my mind. I wish I could come out of the damn closet and admit out loud that I'm in love with a man—and Professor Snape, no less! I'm tired of hiding. I'm just so tired of always running away… _Harry fell into an uneasy sleep with his not so pleasant thoughts running rampant in his head, and the not so pleasant background music of his two best friends snogging on his "brother's" bed.

**

* * *

**The next morning dawned bright and clear at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One particularly unfortunate schoolboy found himself subjected to a pre-dawn wakeup call courtesy of his surrogate little sister. 

"Wake up!" Ginny called softly, shaking him vigorously. "Harry, wake up!"

Groaning, the seventeen year old waved Ginny off, mumbling something about "ten more minutes." Ginny, of course, would have none of that.

"Harry James Potter," she hissed dangerously, "if you don't wake up this instant I'll be forced to pull a Gred and Forge!"

"I'm up!" Harry croaked, groping around for his glasses. Grinning, Ginny placed them in his hand and patted his cheek mockingly before scampering out the door and down to the common room. Sighing heavily, Harry swung out of bed, careful not to wake any of the others—who were still sleeping soundly, he noted enviously. But Ginny was waiting for him, and it wouldn't do at all to keep her in that state for long, as the girl had inherited her mother's infamous temper. Dressing quickly, he performed a quick cleansing charm on himself. He would shower properly after breakfast, but this would do for now seeing as he was going to be outside getting dirty anyway. Pounding down the stairs two at a time, he almost ran into the younger girl, who was tapping her foot impatiently at the bottom of the staircase.

Grinning, she grabbed his hand, and the two sprinted out of Gryffindor Tower like Hell itself was on their heels. Hell, of course, being channeled through Filch or Snape.

This had long since become tradition for the two Gryffindors, and they ran along their carefully plotted path with surety. The first few times they'd snuck out quietly, aided by the Maurader's Map. They were bolder now, running and giggling madly. They reached the grounds in minutes and slowed to a brisk walk, heading toward the lake. When they finally reached the secluded grove – _their_ grove, as they told themselves – Harry settled with his back against a tree, and Ginny curled up against his side.

"So." Began Ginny with a little grin.

"So." Harry replied, matching her grin for grin.

"What's happening in the life of Harry?" Ginny inquired, craning her head at an odd angle so that she was looking up at him. "Any news flashes to share?"

Harry was silent for a long while. To tell or not to tell, that was the question… _On the one hand, _he mused, _I was thinking last night about how good it would feel to tell someone. But on the other, _he continued, _it's also dangerous. I wouldn't place Ginny as a homophobe, but you never know… _

"Harry?" asked Ginny, genuine concern in her voice. "You alright? You've been really removed the past few weeks. Something bothering you?"

"Well…" Harry began hesitantly. "I'm not sure how to tell you, really. I don't know how to tell _any_one. I've only ever told two people—one is dead, and the other, well…" he trailed off, unsure how to continue. But he'd started now, so he might as well go on. "I haven't even told Ron and Hermione. Honestly, they'd probably completely freak out. Especially Ron."

Ginny frowned slightly and sat up straight, turning so that she was looking directly at him. "You can tell me absolutely anything, Harry. As Fred and George oh so charmingly put it this summer, I think you hung the moon. You could tell me that you enjoyed fornicating with Mrs. Norris and I would smile, nod, and say 'that's nice, Harry, when's the wedding?'"

Harry let out a slightly strained laugh. "Yeah, well, according to some sources this isn't a huge step above that."

Now Ginny was getting worried. What on earth could be that bad? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't healthy for him to be holding it in. "Really, Harry, tell me."

"I like men."

Ginny blinked. That was it? That was his dreadful secret? She almost laughed, but she stopped herself when she saw his expression.

"And…" Here Harry faltered, looking carefully in the other direction, unable to meet her curious brown eyes. "And, there's more," he stuttered, heat rising to his face. "This is so hard, Gin, you can't believe how hard this is. But… I need to tell someone or I think I'll explode. Promise you can keep a secret?"

Ginny nodded quickly. "Of course, Harry!"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm in love with Professor Snape."

If it were anatomically possible for Ginny's jaw to drop to the ground, it would have. Instead she settled for a rather stunned, deer-in-headlights look that didn't suit her very well at all.

Harry paled, taking it as a bad sign. Biting his lip, he reached into his robe and toyed with his wand. He could always obliviate her memory… But that was wrong on a lot of levels. _And besides, if I can't get her to accept this now then I'll never be able to bring myself to tell her again, and then there will always be that one huge secret hanging between us… _

He was startled from his thoughts by Ginny's soft laugh. He looked down at her, stunned as her giggling increased. "Gin?"

Snickering she pushed his shoulder lightly. "Merlin, Harry—you should've seen your face!" she dissolved into laughter, and Harry allowed himself a few weak chuckles, still at a complete loss. Still giggling, Ginny continued. "I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me, Harry." Looking up at him, her eyes twinkled mischievously. "You know," she continued conversationally, "I've suspected you had leanings that way for a while." When he looked at her with a wide-eyed expression she dissolved into laughter again.

"Is it that noticeable?" Harry asked weakly, slumping again the tree.

"Nah, just to me." She leaned forward and kissed Harry on the nose. "I mean, what kind of straight guy could resist _me_, drop dead gorgeous sophisticate that I am, throwing herself at him at every possible opportunity?" She posed dramatically in what she supposed was a seductive manner, before dissolving into laughter again. To her pleasure, Harry joined her, albeit weakly.

"Yeah, really." Harry said, giving her a hesitant smile. "Resisting you _is_ something of an indication." He still looked uncertain, and Ginny knew instantly why.

"Well, I can't really fault you for choosing Professor Snape over me," she informed him with a melodramatic sigh. "The man would be _damn_ sexy if he ever bothered to try."

Harry stared at her. "You mean…"

She grinned. "Yeah, I know—I have terrible taste in crushes. I seem to choose 'em dark, handsome, older, and gay."

**

* * *

**Harry had Potions first thing that morning, and he was really looking forward to seeing his lover. After his confession to Ginny, they had spent the next few hours talking, and he felt a lot better. Somehow she made him feel slightly foolish for being so hesitant to tell people—at least about the being gay part. She strongly advised that he do as he had been and keep his relationship with his professor strictly under wraps—but that really went without saying. He was, without a doubt, in the best mood he had been in for quite some time. He had Severus Snape wrapped around his pinky finger—never mind that Sev could say the same about him—_and_ he had his best friend/surrogate sister's approval. Times were good in Life of Harry. 

Ron and Hermione had both asked about his good mood that morning, seeing as the last either of them had heard he was still monstrously upset about having to spend his evenings doing monotonous manual labor for the Greasy Git. He had skillfully hedged around the real reason, of course. Harry might be willing to come out of the closet to Ginny, but he still wasn't sure he was ready to bare his soul to the entire world—especially Ron, who struck him as the type of person who very well might be a closet homophobe. Besides, Ron had basically come out and said last night that the _idea_ of he and Severus being together was appalling.

Now it was Potions and time to interact with his most beloved professor yet again. Waving at Ron, he followed Hermione down towards the dungeon. Ron hadn't gotten into NEWTS level Potions, but Hermione had, easily. As they entered the currently unoccupied classroom, his friend rounded on him.

"Alright Harry, spill."

Harry stared at her with a confused look. "Wha…?"

"Oh, come on, Harry! You can tell me—I'm your best friend! _Some_thing's happened to get you in a good mood, and I have the feeling it has to do with a certain redhead we all know, love, and call Ginny."

Coughing to cover up his slight blush at what he _knew_ she was implying, he decided to hedge around the truth. Maybe if he gave Mione a different tree to bark up, she wouldn't think of Sev as a possibility. "Alright, I admit it—I had a pleasant conversation with Ginny this morning."

"Ha!" crowed Hermione in triumph. "I knew it! You two _are_ an item, aren't you."

Harry's face twisted briefly in annoyance, but he remained silent. After all, he _had_ brought it up in order to distract the bushy-haired teen.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment the doors to the classroom opened and in poured the rest of the class. Throwing Harry a look that said quite clearly that she wasn't finished with him yet, they sat down in their normal spots, and Harry waited for his love to appear.

He didn't have long to wait. Within seconds, Professor Snape breezed through the door, caustic glare sweeping the room as his black robes billowed ominously behind him. "Today," he said softly, seeming to glare at each student in turn. "Today we will be brewing an advanced healing potion. Directions are on the board – get to work." Sneering, he began to prowl the room as the student quickly sorted out their ingredients and got to work.

Twenty minutes into class, he stopped in front of Harry's cauldron, and Harry felt his breath hitch. _Oh Sev…_ He was beautiful. Carefully averting his eyes, Harry paid careful attention to the potion. He didn't really need to – over the summer he'd actually been able to study, and he already knew how to brew this particular potion. He was already ahead of the other members of the class, and while their potions bubbled a cheerful looking sky blue, his was already turning the correct red-violet.

"Mr. Potter." Harry's head shot up at the familiar drawl. The Slytherins all turned to watch what promised to be the spectacular twice-daily showdown between Potter and Snape – front row tickets on sale now. "_Why_ is your potion a different color than the others?" Sev had a malicious sneer plastered on his face, but the quirked eyebrow and amused twinkle in his eyes told Harry that he was actually quite pleased with him. But _Potter_ wouldn't know that _Snape_ was pleased…

"Erm, it's, ah, supposed to be this color?" Harry asked, blushing slightly as he purposefully made a fool of himself. The Slytherins snickered, and Hermione cast a sympathetic glance over at him.

"I _know_ that Mister Potter – five points from Gryffindor for your cheek."

Harry glared up at him, carefully schooling his face into a look of loathing. "Well, if you already knew, why did you ask?"

In the next seat over, Seamus choked slightly. Harry risked a quick glance over at the other Gryffindor who was shaking his head frantically. He looked back at Sev, and cringed a little as both eyebrows rose slowly, silently questioning why Harry felt like pushing it today.

"You are simply _asking_ for detention, Mister Potter, and since I _know_ how much you enjoy scrubbing cauldrons, I shall grant your request. Now answer my question. _Why_ is your potion a different color than Mr. Malfoy's?"

Draco, whose potion was the same blue as everyone else's, smirked at Harry. Harry snapped his gaze back to his Potions Master, then looked down at his cauldron. "Because I've already added the armadillo bile, Professor."

To everyone's surprise, Snape nodded sharply. "Two points to Gryffindor for having a student—however imbecilic—who is able to produce a healing potion in a decent amount of time. I suggest the rest of you hurry up, or yours will not be ready by the time we test them."

With another superior sneer directed at Harry, Snape continued his rounds. As soon as Snape's back was turned, Hermione rounded on him. "What on _earth_ was going through your head, Harry? You back mouthed Professor _Snape_! I know you were mad at him last night, but really… I'm surprised he's not happily dissecting you for potion parts right now! And to actually _give_ Gryffindor points…"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your incessant chatter, Miss Granger." _Same old Severus._ Harry thought, ducking his head to hide his amusement.

**

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**

**Next Chapter: **the Bastardization of Ronald Weasley and the Humanization of Draco Malfoy.


	2. Coming Clean

For the reviewer who questioned Ron and Hermione's support: I am not the type to simply dismiss them as Harry's friends. Throughout this story my goal is to write a viablestudy of how an individual character _might_ react in the given situation. I admit to choosing the more amusing reactions first and formost - this is primarily a humor story, after all - however, I try to keep the characters as IC as possible. Also remember, though, that the tight friendships you had at eleven are not necessarily the same tight friendships you had at seventeen or eighteen. Maybe you're still friends with the same people - but I guarantee that your relationship is not exactly the same as it was when you first became friends. That is simply the nature of relationships; to grow and develope, whether that growth is together or apart.

Random Note: This story was written pre-HBP, for all that it's being reposted now. The only thing that really applies from the sixth book is: Look! Draco is a human being! He has feelings! He isn't _just_ his father's puppet!

* * *

**Chapter Two: the Bastardization of Ronald Weasley and the Humanization of Draco Malfoy** (aka: the author is on drugs)

* * *

That evening after supper, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny headed straight for the Gryffindor common room. Dinner had been a rather amusing affair, what with Seamus loudly retelling the story of Harry's bravery—or stupidity, if you cared to look at it that way—in the face of The Greasy Bastard, complete with explosive hand gestures. 

Near the end of the meal he managed to knock over Ron's cup of pumpkin juice, sending it into the poor redhead's lap. Ron had, of course, sputtered indignantly, then laughed and excused himself to clean up. Hermione had immediately jumped on Seamus and begun berating the poor Irish wizard, making use of her overabundant vocabulary. Even Harry, whose vocabulary came remarkably close to 'Mione's, had trouble understanding all of the things she had called the other seventh year.

"Did you _see_ Seamus' face?" Ginny crowed, giggling madly as they clambered through the portrait hole.

Hermione sniffed delicately and flipped her hair behind her shoulder as Harry sniggered along with his younger friend. "He looked rather put out, 'Mione." Harry commented, trying desperately to maintain a straight face as he spoke. "I think you hurt his feelings when you called him an insufferably immature imbecile of an Irishman."

"Yeah," giggled Ginny, "and I think Dean was impressed with your alliteration."

"I don't think anyone but our 'Mione could insult someone using poetic devices at the drop of a hat." Harry said with a smirk, throwing a companionable arm around his bushy haired best friend.

"Yes, well," Hermione huffed playfully, "he deserved it. And it was at the drop of a _goblet_, Harry—I wouldn't get half so mad about a mere hat."

This comment sent both Ginny and Harry into loud guffaws, and Hermione giggled as well. So, in general good spirits, they made themselves comfortable in the common room. Soon other people joined them, and those who had witnessed the confrontation sought Hermione out to congratulate her, and inquire a definition for some of her more creative insults – and to congratulate Harry for his show of Gryffindor spirit in the face of Snape.

As Dean came over to talk to Hermione, effectively distracting her, Ginny jabbed Harry in the ribs. "You should tell her." Ginny hissed into his ear.

Harry didn't have to ask what it was he needed to divulge to his friend. He paled slightly and looked deep into Ginny's friendly eyes, desperately projecting all the discomfort and insecurities that he was feeling about the situation. She smiled encouragingly, but before she could actually say anything, Hermione swooped in on them.

"Awww, that's so cute! You guys make such a sweet couple!"

Harry turned a bright red and coughed, trying to cover it up. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, sod off, 'Mione." She looked at Harry again, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

Harry nodded and, before he could loose his nerves completely, stood up. "'Mione, I really need to talk to you. Privately," he added, as several people around them strained to hear what was sure to be juicy gossip. "Do you think we could talk in your dormitory, maybe?"

"Sure," Hermione replied, smiling slightly. Finally! Something had been on her friend's mind forever, and _finally_ he was going to tell her! "Let's go."

Ginny stood to follow them after Harry shot her a look that said quite clearly 'help me, you moron!' and paused before mounting the stairs. Turning back to the rest of the common room, she narrowed her eyes in the Weasley Woman Glare of Death. "And don't _one_ of you even _think_ of coming in and disturbing us in any way, shape, or form, or you will inexplicably turn up in Slytherin territory with flashing red and gold lights that scream 'I'm a Gryffindor! Chew me up and spit me out you worthless pack of worms'."

Seamus gulped slightly and turned to Dean, who was watching the retreating redhead with awe. "Bloody hell!" mumbled the Irish wizard, "she's even scarier than Hermione – and that's saying something!"

The others laughed and fell back to talking, though they threw curious glances at the door where the three had disappeared, interested in spite of Ginny's warning – or perhaps because of it. Ron came through the portrait hole a few seconds after the trio had retreated upstairs, and Dean, Seamus, and Neville immediately directed the boy towards the seventh year girls' dorm, fervently hoping to see Ginny's threat in action. Of course, this was unlikely seeing that he was a part of the inseparable Golden Trio, but still… Every boy has his sadistic dreams.

* * *

"So what do you need to tell me?" Hermione asked, watching Harry curiously as they all settled on her bed. She waited with baited breath as Harry squirmed a bit, then smiled when Ginny touched his shoulder reassuringly. It was the kind of intimate gesture that was always happening between Ron and herself… Of course the news would be that those two were finally a couple! She could hardly hold in her excitement at what she _knew _was going to be an ardent profession of love, but she equally couldn't bring herself to give him any more prompts than she already had. 

"Well…" Harry started, blushing slightly. "It's, um, kinda like this," he trailed off, gazing pensively out the window. He was silent for a moment, then opened his mouth to continue. Before he could say anything, however, Ron burst through the door and threw himself onto the bed. Suitably distracted, Harry stared at the redhead. "Wha…?"

Ron had a funny expression on his face as he sat up and leaned against the headboard by 'Mione. "You guys will _never_ guess what I saw when I went down to clean the juice off my robes."

Hermione, rather miffed about the disruption of what she was sure was going to be a hopelessly romantic declaration of love, glared ferociously at the interruption. "Ron," she began dangerously.

As usual, the boy ignored her warning and plowed ahead, face screwed up in a strange expression of disgust. Harry stared at him with fascination—he had never seen that particular expression on his friend's face before.

"I saw two Ravenclaws kissing," Ron said, spitting it out as though it were something despicable. At the stares the others were giving, he elaborated. "Two _boys_. It was bloody disgusting! I mean, the _idea_ is repulsive enough, but seeing it! They're such freaks. It's a perversion of nature." He sneered contemptuously, completely ignoring the pallor spreading over Harry's face as he steamrolled on. "It was bloody well the most revolting thing I've ever seen – worse than the ferret even! People like that shouldn't be allowed to – "

He never got any further because at that moment an absolutely livid Ginny Weasley stood up and slapped her brother across the face as hard as she could.

She was furious. No, she was way _beyond_ furious. Her face was white with rage, and she was seeing red. How _dare_ he! How _dare_ he say such things? She was breathing heavily, and her chest felt strangely tight. She risked a quick glance over at Harry, who was staring at Ron with a lost, bewildered expression.

Ginny refocused on Ron, who was now spluttering slightly as he came back to his senses after the shock of his little sister hitting him. She slapped him again. He stared at her with wide eyes, as Hermione looked between them with total incomprehension.

"Ronald Weasley," Ginny hissed dangerously. "How _dare_ you! How _dare_ you talk that way about _any_one! I cannot believe you, I just…" she trailed off dangerously, taking a deep breath and struggling to compose herself. Slightly calmer now, she continued in a steady, though still extremely dangerous, voice. "Homosexuality is _not_ a perversion, Ron. It is _not_ unnatural and it does _not_ make someone a freak. It says _volumes_ more about you that you react this way than it does about those wizards – who, it might be pointed out, are doing nothing less natural than expressing attraction. It's _far_ less disturbing than catching you and 'Mione snogging in the Astronomy Tower, I'm sure."

Ron, who had finally gotten some semblance of his wits back, tried unsuccessfully to sneer at his sister, while reflexively holding his cheek. "Why are _you_ so adamant about it?" he sneered angrily, "are you one of _them_, those _freaks_?"

Ginny tilted her chin up and looked down her nose at him, her eyes blazing with rage. "And if I am?"

Ron spluttered, and Ginny raised an un-amused eyebrow at his antics. "I'm not," she continued dryly, "but that's not the point. It shouldn't matter whether I'm straight, bi, or gay. The point is that you shouldn't be so bloody biased!"

Ron was getting defensive now. He had been backed into something of a corner—by his _baby sister,_ no less—and he didn't much care for the position. And besides—he was in the right, wasn't he? He opened his mouth for a scathing reply, when Harry, who had been silent up until now, abruptly stood.

"I'm going to be late for my detention." Harry said quietly, as though from far away. Without looking back, he slipped out of the room, through the common room, and out the portrait hole. It was late and, in all truth, he didn't actually have detention tonight. Sev was going to be busy, so he was going to 'serve detention,' such as it was, the next night. But he needed out of there.

"_Two boys. It was bloody disgusting!" _Was it? _Was_ it disgusting for two males to like each other? _'Does this make me disgusting and unnatural? I mean, it never _felt_ wrong before, but now…'_ Now Harry felt dirty, inside and outside. His thoughts were dirty. His wants were dirty. Even his _emotions_ were dirty. Because _he_ loved a _man_.

" _They're such freaks. It's a perversion of nature."  
_

" _Are you one of _them_? Those _freaks_?"  
_

"_Two boys. It was bloody disgusting!"  
_

" _They're such freaks. It's a perversion of nature."  
_

Faltering slightly, Harry broke into a run. He felt as if maybe, maybe, if he just kept running, Ron's hurtful words would be left behind. His surroundings blurred together and he stumbled, but he refused to slow. Down stairs, around corners, and through halls he sped onward, dodging the few students and teachers who were still up. With a gasp, he found himself outside by the lake, in the little grove that was so special to him and Ginny. As he collapsed into the comforting embrace of the trees, he heard Ginny's words ringing through his head.

"_Homosexuality is _not_ a perversion. It is _not_ unnatural and it does_ not_ make someone a freak."  
_

'_But maybe she was just saying that. Inside, inside she was probably laughing at me. Oh Merlin, she must be laughing so hard at me… I can't believe I told her everything!' _Harry let out a shuddering breath as his body began to shake with reaction. _'Yet,'_ argued the tiny, rational portion of his mind that had brought her up in the first place, _'if she agreed with Ron, she wouldn't have slapped him like that. I've _never_ seen Ginny so furious before—her anger was almost palpable! Maybe she really did mean what she said to Ron…' _But the thought of Ron brought to mind the things he'd said.

"_Two boys. It was bloody disgusting!"  
_

" _They're such freaks. It's a perversion of nature."  
_

Suddenly overcome, Harry's body heaved and he vomited into the bushes. His body continued to shake and heave, and he could feel icy tears coursing down his cheeks as his body continued to shudder in reaction. And then soft, warm hands touched his back and gently held his head as he dry heaved. At first he tensed, but he relaxed when he registered that the presence wasn't a threat. It must be Ginny. '_See,_' he told himself firmly, _'she cares. She does. She's on your side, even if no one else is.'  
_

After a few long minutes his racking shudders calmed a bit, though he was still shaking slightly with nerves. Those warm hands were still rubbing small circles on his back, and one lifted his chin so that he was staring directly into concerned silver eyes. _'Malfoy!'  
_

"You look like bloody hell, Potter."

The words that would normally be venomous were stated calmly, without any trace of malice. There was a trace of an amused smirk on the aristocratic face, but none of the usual derisive scorn. In fact, _'he sounds like Sev – sarcastic, but not truly a bastard.'  
_

"Thanks," Harry said finally, forcing himself to concentrate on the here-and-now. Struggling with his inner demons, he used the shrewd silver eyes as a focus to draw himself back into reality. "Though I doubt anyone could carry that look off as well as you do, Malfoy."

The smirk that had been lurking in the background lit up the other boy's face. _'Yes,' _Harry mused to himself, '_strangely like Sev.'  
_

"Trust me, Potter – as much as I am loathe to admit it, you have finally beat me in something. You carry off the 'hell hung over' look quite well. I simply cannot bring myself to look so horrible."

There was a few moments of silence as Malfoy continued rubbing his back, and Harry struggled to contain his shuddering. "Why?" Harry whispered finally. _'Why are you being nice to me? My best friend thinks I'm a freak, yet here you are, comforting me! It makes no sense. You're my enemy! …Aren't you?'  
_

"Because if I got any paler, I would blend in with the snow." When Harry turned his head to give Malfoy a 'what the fuck' look, the other boy sniggered. "That's not what you meant, I know. Why am I helping you? I have no idea. Maybe because, for some odd reason, my godfather believes that you are someone with whom I could get along with quite nicely." He shrugged as Harry sat up, and the two leaned back against the tree. They were both silent for a few more minutes, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally Malfoy broke the silence. "Severus thinks quite highly of you, you know. Loves you, probably. You might very well be the first person besides me that man has ever really loved."

Harry turned to stare incredulously at the far-away look in the blonde's eyes. "He told you?" he asked in surprise. Somehow he couldn't imagine dark, enigmatic Severus telling _anyone_ about something as inherently private as his love life.

Malfoy laughed softly. "Yes and no. A few weeks ago I walked in on him pacing the floor mumbling things under his breath. All I could catch were 'Harry,' 'anniversary,' and 'special'. I didn't press for answers—you know how he gets."

Harry _did_ know how Sev got—but how did Malfoy? And how did Malfoy know that _Harry_ would understand? This was just too weird. In fact, the very oddness of it was doing more for his state of nerves at the moment than anything else possibly could. Even Sev wouldn't be able to do much for Harry at the moment, as his head rang with Ron's voice telling him that it was perverted and unnatural to be attracted to a man.

Another pause, then Malfoy continued on, a little hesitant. _'Is he nervous?'_ Harry wondered, his brow rising slightly as the other boy's voice softened. "Then, a few weeks ago, when things really went wrong with Lucius, he told me that I should talk to you. I thought he was flipping crazy. Told him so. Everyone knows that we hate each other. But then I got to thinking—after he gave me one of his 'don't be an imbecile, you stupid bastard' looks—that the same people who _know_ that you and I hate each other, also _know_ that there's bad blood between you and Severus. They _know_ that he wants to get you expelled the same way they _know_ that I am a bloody Death Eater who wants your head on a silver platter—side dish of Weasels and Mudbloods optional."

Harry was staring at the other boy with more than a little confusion. _'Why is he calling his father by his given name? A statement of some sort, but does that mean he no longer considers himself Lucius's son? When he said that people _know_ he's a Death Eater, he put an awful lot of ironic stress on 'know'. Maybe Malfoy is wearing the same mask that Sev wears.'_ Harry couldn't even bring himself to be angry with the disparaging references to Ron and 'Mione – like everything else in this conversation, it was said without malice. Habitual scorn, yes, but not _malice,_ or even _hatred_.

Silence stretched out again, but it was not uncomfortable. Finally Harry looked over at Malfoy and bit his lip slightly. "But… you know. And you don't mind? You don't think it's… _unnatural_?" The last part was barely a whisper. He wasn't sure why, but the blonde's answer was extremely important to him. Perhaps it was because he was something of an impartial third party – he could be trusted not to hedge his answer to spare Harry's feelings.

"No." came the slightly amused reply. "Not at all. If it – and by 'it' I assume you mean homosexuality – was unnatural, well, there wouldn't be any gay people, now would there."

It was exactly what Harry needed to hear. He smiled slightly, then extended his hand slowly to the blonde, who raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't believe we ever met properly." Harry commented softly. Malfoy's eyes reflected surprise as he continued. "Hi. My name is Harry."

Malfoy's hand came up and grasped his in a firm, warm handshake. "Hi, Harry. My name is Draco."

Warm, friendly smiles bloomed on both faces. Turning back toward the lake, the two sat in companionable silence for a long time.

* * *

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was a strained event. Tension was high, and what little talking there was felt forced. Ron was sporting yet another crimson handprint on his cheek – this time from Hermione – and most of the House was pointedly ignoring his existence. Those who acknowledged him merely glared, so Harry supposed it couldn't be much better. _'He deserves it, though,_' he thought angrily, turning his gaze back toward his plate. 

As Harry had discovered when he returned late last night, Ginny and Ron had had a screaming match in the Common room about half an hour after Harry had run off. Most of the Gryffindors were angry at the close minded seventh year, who had apparently succeeded in reducing a fourth year to tears. The fourth year – who was openly gay – was sitting as far from Ron as possible, his friends clustered protectively around him, shooting potent death glares at the older redhead. Harry wouldn't be surprised if Ron found himself at the butt end of some very cruel pranks in the near future…

Ginny and 'Mione were _not_ sitting next to Ron – nor was Harry. _No_ one was sitting next to Ron. Dean and Seamus, both of whom had been monstrously impressed by her antics yesterday, were babying Ginny, and she was trying to shrug them off. 'Mione was refusing to make eye contact with her boyfriend, and kept her attention resolutely focused on the conversation she was having with Neville.

Harry himself was quiet and barely ate. His stomach clenched each time he gazed at his red haired (former?) best friend. Unable and unwilling to stay, he left as soon as he could without attracting unwanted attention. Ginny stopped glaring heatedly at Ron long enough to cast a worried glance at Harry. He met her eyes and gave her a weak smile, to which she nodded and returned to giving her brother the Weasley Woman Glare of Death.

Harry didn't see Ron again until after lunch in Transfiguration. It was easy enough to avoid him both there and in History of Magic. After all, no one else was associating with him either. If they thought it odd that he didn't stick up for his friend, well, let them wonder.

After History they had a break until dinner, and Harry retreated to his special grove by the lake to be alone.

The next time he saw Ron, most of the tension within the House was gone, though Ginny and 'Mione still weren't speaking with him. Ginny looked strangely smug, however, and everyone seemed to be treating her with extreme amounts of awe and respect. When Harry bothered to actually look at the other boy he was shocked. Choking slightly, he stared unabashedly. Gone was Ron's flame red hair – Ginny had reputedly disowned him last night, so he guessed it made sense that she wouldn't allow him to keep the trademark Weasley feature – and in its place were long lavender locks with rosy pink highlights. He looked… well, to use a Muggle turn of phrase, like a stereotypical fruitcake. But the hair wasn't even the extent of the damage. He was also sporting long, carefully manicured green nails and carefully applied makeup. It was disconcerting when coupled with otherwise male features…

"What on _Earth_ did you do to him, Ginny?" Harry hissed as he slid in next to her. She smirked at him in reply.

"Me? Nothing! What makes you think _I_ did something?"

He fixed her with a Look, but she brushed him off and turned back to 'Mione, who was busily consulting with Lavender over something in the other girl's hand. Giggling slightly as they finished inspecting whatever it was, 'Mione stood up and walked over to where Ron was segregated. Holding out the object she looked down at him sternly.

"Put this on, Ron. You wear it today and tomorrow, then apologize to the House and we'll consider forgiving you. If," she added, "you're really willing to be more open minded."

Nodding with acute embarrassment, Ron swept the object out of her hand and fastened it onto his robes. Bright letters blazed up, proudly proclaiming "I Support Gay Rights."

The next night he apologized in the common room in a very subdued manner. They, for the most part, forgave and forgot.

Harry turned and prodded Ginny. "So Gin – when are you going to cast the counter curses for whatever you've done to him?" He indicated the other boy, who was still sporting the lavender locks and green nails, though the makeup had faded.

Ginny smirked slightly. "I meant what I said last night – I really didn't do anything to him. Slytherins did. I honestly don't know what curses they used to get these particular effects, or why they chose them. Very fitting, of course, but still a bit odd…"

* * *

**Pre Makeover:**

Draco prowled the dungeon halls, surrounded by his sycophants, bored out of his mind. He _really _wanted to go talk to his godfather, or perhaps Harry – who he knew also had a free period right now – but his stupid cronies wouldn't leave him alone. He would've thought  
that with his rejection of his father and the Dark Lord they would stop kissing ass and just leave him the hell alone.

'_Apparently not,'_ he thought with a purely mental sigh. '_Of course, it could just be that their parents are as stupid as they are, and haven't gotten around to informing their children that I am no longer in the favor of the Dark Lord…'_ His eyes sought out Blaise Zabini's, and he glared as the other boy simpered at him mockingly. They rolled their eyes at each other and Zabini shot him a sympathetic grin. _'At least they're not _all_ idiots.'_ Draco thought with another explosive mental sigh.

Suddenly Pansy let out a squeak and stopped short, causing several people to run into her, and Draco to roll his eyes yet again. _Now_ what? The way to the front cleared for him without his needing to say anything – sometimes being "the Slytherin King" had its perks. He stalked forward, then stopped short at the rather astonishing sight that greeted him. Ron Weasley lay in the middle of the dungeon hall—Slytherin territory—in a full body bind. It was all Draco could do to keep his jaw from dropping at the sight of the scarlet and gold lights flashing around the other seventh year. His mouth twitched up as the lights began screeching as soon as they were all gathered. **"I'm a Gryffindor!"** They proclaimed loudly and discordantly, **"chew me up and spit me out you worthless pack of worms!"**

A smirk formed easily as he surveyed the other boy. He had a feeling that the Weasel was the reason Harry had been upset last night—which meant that the Weasel was fair game. Besides, who was he to refuse such a nicely presented gift?

"Well, what say we have some fun?" He pulled out his wand and smirked evilly. Oooh, sometimes he loved being a sadistic bastard!

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Evidence 


	3. Evidence

**Chapter Three: Evidence **(aka: Are You _Positive_ He's Gay?)

**

* * *

**Two days later Ginny was finally on speaking terms with her brother again, though it was mostly just to make sarcastic comments on what a biased bastard he was. Harry was talking to Ron again, though he remained distant. Sure, Ron had promised everybody that he would be more accepting, but it took a lot more than one humiliating run-in with an irate younger sister to get most teenage boys to see reason. 

By now, most of the Slytherins' "gifts" to Ron had faded, but his hair remained an alarming violet. Ron, predictably, was not pleased about it; the rest of the schools was just as happy to snicker at the hapless boy.

"Argh! What on _earth_ did Malfoy do to my hair!"

Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances before turning their attention to Ron. Said seventh year was currently standing in front of a mirror in the boys' dorm, wand pointed at his head. Hermione was also watching him with amusement, though there was a bit of distress in her eyes as well.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, walking over to her boyfriend. "You should ask Harry – he's the local expert on practicals, after all."

Ron turned hopefully towards the green-eyed boy who was currently playing a game of wizarding chess with his little sister. "Well, mate? Do _you_ know what the bastard did to my hair?"

Harry felt a faint frown forming at the impolitic reference to Draco. Luckily Sev was rubbing off on him and he throttled his Gryffindor impulsiveness to say the first thing that came to mind. Instead, he allowed his Slytherin side to analyze the situation, carefully gauging what would be the best thing to say to get the desired results.

"Well," he began, joining Hermione and Ron by the mirror, "I can't say I _do_ know. It isn't a hex I've seen before."

Ron's face fell, and he turned back to the mirror, poking and prodding at the heinous hairdo. "So you can't fix it?"

Harry smirked – he'd been hoping Ron would say that. "I never said that."

Ron whipped his head around to stare hopefully and incredulously at the black haired boy who was smirking at him with a distinctly Slytherin expression. He didn't allow it to distract him from what the other boy had said, however, and he latched onto the implied promise of reprieve.

"So you _can_ fix it? Excellent!"

Harry's smirk grew. Slytherin cunning dictated that if he played his cards right, he would be able to tell both Ron and Hermione that he was gay in a way that would not be as potentially traumatizing as sitting them down and earnestly informing them that he fantasized over their Potions Master.

"I can." He replied languidly, raising an eyebrow in a gesture picked up from spending too much time in Severus's company. "But _will_ I?"

Ron and Hermione's expressions were equally stunned, and he had to carefully throttle down his laughter. _And the shoe will drop…_ Ron began spluttering slightly, and 'Mione's expression was turning slightly disapproving.

"I'm not sure I've forgiven Ron yet. He deserves what he got, in my book."

"Now Harry," began Hermione, frowning as she took in the positively evil look in his eyes. "In case you forgot, Ron served his punishment _and_ he apologized in front of everyone. That fourth year forgave him! Why can't you? It's not like _you_ were personally insulted."

The evil look vanished like a puff of smoke, replaced by a half angry, half hurt expression. "Not personally insulted? 'Mione, trust me, it doesn't get much more personal than that." Suddenly unwilling to finish the confrontation that he had begun, Harry muttered a spell under his breath that changed Ron's hair back to its normal red, then turned and walked out of the room.

Ginny, who had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire fiasco, turned to fix her brother with A Look. Ron was too deeply in shock to really notice. Hermione, too, looked a little shocked. _In fact,_ Ginny thought wryly, _she's wearing the same expression she wore that one time she _thought_ she'd analyzed the situation to death, only to have her theory proven wrong._

"Well," Ginny said, voice heavy with irony, "_that_ certainly went well."

Two pairs of eyes rounded on her, and the two older teenagers besieged her.

"You _knew_!" Hermione squeaked, staring at her with wide, stunned eyes. "You _knew_ he was gay? How come _you_ knew? And why didn't he tell _us_? And what about the two of you, you know, being _together_?"

Ginny decided that a Hermione without all the answers was an even more annoying Hermione than the one who had them all. Having known the older girl as long as she had, however, she took the intelligent course and held off saying anything until 'Mione began to trail off expectantly. But then Ron started in.

"He's _gay_! I can't believe--! I mean! _Harry_? _Gay_? It, I, I mean…" Ron's face grew slightly red as he finally burst out, "I slept in the same room as him!"

And that set off Ginny's infamous hair-trigger temper. With a screech of anger, the sixteen-year-old girl tackled her older brother to the ground and furiously began pounding the living daylights out of him.

**

* * *

**Down in the common room, Seamus, Dean, and Neville looked up in the direction of their dorms. Harry had breezed through a minute ago, looking slightly pale, and had told them that if they dared to set foot in their dorm until it was vacated he would take a leaf out of Ginny's book and send them down to Slytherin territory, personally addressed to Draco Malfoy. 

"I wonder what's going on up there that he doesn't want us walking in on," Dean mused, looking curiously towards the door.

"Who's all up there?" Seamus asked with similar curiosity.

"Ron and Hermione," Neville replied, looking more worried than curious. "And Ginny, too, I think."

"Well, if Ginny's up there it can't be a snog fest or anything…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well," he said pointedly, "those screams don't really point towards pleasurable activities, do they."

The three boys fell silent as they listened to the muted screams with a certain morbid fascination. After all, they had to be pretty enthusiastic screams to make it through the muting spells that were placed over all the dorms.

**

* * *

**Twenty minutes later Ginny emerged into the common room. Smiling benevolently at the three boys who were staring at her bloodied fists with awe, she waved before exiting through the portrait hole. A few seconds later, a pale Hermione stuck her head in the door and motioned for Parvati to come over. Whispering a few words to the other girl, she retreated back up towards the dorm. A rather confused Parvati ducked through the portrait hole before the seventh year boys had a chance to question her. 

"I don't suppose it's safe to…"

"You heard him! And Ginny was in a _good_ mood, so…"

"We _definitely_ stay put."

**

* * *

**Harry made his way straight towards the dungeons. It was a Saturday so he knew Sev would be free, and he had every intention of utilizing his boyfriend's time. Carefully avoiding anyone who would be alarmed by his presence in the area, Harry found his way to the heavy wooden door that marked the beginning of Snape's home turf. 

At first Harry had wondered at the conventional door. Most of the teachers he had encountered used portrait-guarded entrances for their private chambers – less likely to be bothered by students and whatnot. When he had asked, Sev's amused reply was that all portraits were gossipmongers, and that their so-called protection against students wasn't worth the subsequent invasion of his privacy by _them._

_And it's a good thing, too._ Thought Harry with a tiny smile. _I'm not sure _what_ the portraits would think of me visiting his private quarters so often. Not to mention that what _they_ know, _Dumbledore_ knows. Sev's inordinately proud of the fact that we've hidden our relationship from the old coot for so long, and I must say I don't blame him. His meddling ways were bad enough when I was a child, but I have to say that I prefer the feeling that I have at least a small amount of control of my life…_

Still smiling slightly, Harry slipped through the door. That was the other nice thing about conventional doors – he could slip in and out without worrying about passwords. The wards only had to be modified once to let him in, and that was that. He could come and go from Sev's rooms, and no one was the wiser.

"Sev?" Harry called out, looking around the room for any indication of where his lover might be. "Sev?"

When nobody answered, Harry shrugged and made his way over to the couch, settling comfortably in front of the fireplace. The couch was made of some sort of black leather, and it was enchanted to adjust to your body, preferences, and position. It was by far the most comfortable piece of furniture Harry had ever encountered. Not to mention the fact that it was just the right size for two wizards to cuddle (though Sev would kill him if he ever heard it referred to as such) together and read or talk, or whatever it was they decided to do. There were armchairs as well, but they weren't nearly as good in Harry's opinion, though they did give him an excuse to sit in his boyfriend's lap…

But the couch – the couch was special. It was his favorite place in the entire world. _And it'll remain that way, I'm sure. Although, _he mused with a smirk, _I'm sure I'll be revamping that soon to take the Bed into account…_

Actually, Harry had only slept in Sev's bed once, and he'd been unconscious at the time, so it probably didn't count.

_I wonder where he is right now,_ he thought to himself, staring broodingly into the fire. _He generally spends his free time down here, unless he's got business – and usually he tells me if he's not going to be around so that I won't risk our secret needlessly. Ah well, I don't have any classes or anything, and there really isn't anywhere I'd rather be than right here anyways. _Smiling, the teen rose to his feet and walked over to the bookshelf by the door. Without a second thought, he browsed through Severus's books, looking for one that he hadn't read yet. Selecting an interesting looking DADA book, Harry curled back up on the couch, prepared to wait as long as it took for Sev to return.

**

* * *

**Severus Snape, Potions Master Extraordinaire, Unholy Terrorizer of Hogwarts students, cursed. Loudly. In thirteen languages, four of which were dead. The woman behind the counter paled and gulped slightly. So much for an easy day without difficult customers! 

"Look, Sir, I'm really very sorry, but I don't think we have what you're looking for." She was genuinely distressed. She was used to happy, loving couples coming in to look at her rings—not angry, bitter, hard to please old men! Not to mention that admitting they were unable to please a customer was a big no-no in this business… But there was only so much one poor witch could do!

Without a word, the black haired man whirled around and stalked out of the store, leaving a very relieved witch behind him.

_Although,_ she mused, hours after he had removed his rather overbearing presence from her tiny shop, _one must wonder why on earth Professor Greasy Git Snape is searching for a promise ring. Though he didn't look half so greasy as I remember,_ the witch reflected as she absent-mindedly smoothed her hair from her face. _In fact, he looked almost _good_. Barring personality I might even envy the lucky witch! _

**

* * *

**Nearly identical scenes were played out at five other shops, both Muggle and Magical, in Britain with depressingly similar results. It was not, however, in Severus Snape's nature to give up easily. Frustrated with the lack of results in his home country, he broadened his scope. 

After searching far and wide – literally – he finally found it. It was perfect in every way. He was so pleased to have obtained it that he did something he rarely did in public – he smiled. Broadly. With unrestrained joy. _After all,_ he temporized; _I _have_ searched the greater part of several continents for the better part of the day. I am allowed to celebrate._

Luckily for him, he was currently in a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop in Egypt, so he was in no danger of shocking anybody he knew with his public display of emotion.

"I'll take it," he told the smiling storeowner, handing over the money without a second thought.

**

* * *

**It was several hours later that a tired but well-pleased Severus returned to Hogwarts. He headed straight for his rooms, not even bothering to inform the Headmaster of his return. The portraits would do it for him anyways, so why duplicate the effort? 

Really, the man wanted nothing more than to throw himself down on his wonderfully cozy couch and relax. _Well, having Harry there certainly wouldn't hurt…_ But he wouldn't get his hopes up. He knew quite well that Harry's friends tended to monopolize his Saturdays – Sev was content to have Harry's Sundays to himself, without worrying about sharing his boyfriend with the brats.

Entering his chambers, he carefully placed his wrapped package on the bookshelf before closing his eyes and flopping down on the couch in a completely undignified manner. But dignity was not an issue inside the privacy of his own chambers – _no_ one, not even Dumbledore, came upon him unawares when he was in his own territory.

So it came as something of a surprise to the reclining wizard when a warm weight settled itself in his lap and soft lips brushed lightly against his own. His eyes flew open and he pulled his head away slightly.

"Harry?"

"No, Dumbledore. Of _course_ it's me, you git! Who else would dare straddle and kiss you?"

Sev smirked slightly. "Am I supposed to answer that?"

"No." came the equally amused reply, followed by another soft kiss. "Because if you did I would be forced to hunt down said people and kill them – which would most likely result in a long and unpleasant stay in Azkaban for yours truly." Another soft, seeking kiss.

And then there was no talking. There were merely hands and lips and feeling.

**

* * *

**

Meanwhile, back up in Gryffindor Tower

"I just can't understand it, Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed for the hundredth time that evening. "You two are a couple! I mean, _everybody_ knows that. You sneak out early in the morning, and you're always together, and he holds your hand, and…" she trailed off, looking at Ginny with wide, confused eyes.

Ginny sighed. _You're an intelligent witch, 'Mione—one would hope you'd have picked it up by now. I mean, it's not like I've only been repeating it for the past hour or anything._ "Mione," she began, frustration obvious in her voice, "Just stop and think outside the box for a minute. You're good at analyzing, and I'm sure if you weren't so close to the situation you'd have picked up on it a lot sooner." _Yeah, that's right Ginny—maybe if you flatter her she'll snap back to reality._

The brown haired witch made a non-committal noise, still gazing straight forward with unfocused eyes.

Ginny sighed more deeply. This was getting on her nerves _very_ quickly. Hell, she had digested the news the minute Harry had let her in on the big secret, and she'd known the boy almost as long as 'Mione and Ron had! _And I really did have a crush on him a few years ago—logically speaking it should be _me_ looking at the wall blankly. Ah well, Harry and logical never really went well together anyway._

Shifting her attention over to her brother, she had to restrain herself from smirking triumphantly at the lingering traces of their earlier fight. It had felt so _good_ to get the better of one of her brothers! Granted, she'd only managed it because she was righteously enraged and he was stunned shitless, but still… It was a source of pride nonetheless. Ron, too, was staring at the wall blankly, and like his girlfriend he seemed utterly incapable of processing the information.

_I have the strangest feeling this is going to be a loooong evening. Damn, you'd better get here soon Harry! My temper isn't up to handling damage control for much longer._

**

* * *

**Harry smiled across the table at his boyfriend as they enjoyed a private dinner in the Slytherin's chambers. He hadn't really felt up to having supper in the Great Hall, and besides, he was so comfortable down here! It had been a while since the two of them had managed to have a "romantic dinner" together, and Harry was enjoying it immensely. 

So was Sev, though he would never actually admit it. Then again, Sev never admitted anything, so that was hardly anything new. He _volunteered information_ to Harry, but he never _admitted_ anything. What exactly the difference was, Harry wasn't sure, but Sev was adamant that there was an important distinction. _But oh well_, Harry thought with wry amusement, _the man's strange idiosyncrasies are what make him Sev. I can forgive his oddities, I'm sure—heaven knows he forgives mine._

"And what exactly is so amusing, brat?" Sev asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly. He loved the younger man's secretive smiles – they were _damn_ sexy – but they were also more than mildly irritating when he didn't know what they were about. Especially when those green eyes were fixed on him with startling intensity… Made him wonder if he had something in his teeth.

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied airily, mentally snickering. He loved this game! Happily the two plunged into a spirited bantering session.

**

* * *

**"So, Harry never liked you." 

"No, not the way you mean it."

"You weren't a couple."

"No."

"You never had any romantic relationship whatsoever."

"_No_, 'Mione."

"Ok, I think I've got it."

"Finally…"

"So Harry really is gay."

"Yes."

"He likes men?"

"Yes."

"And you were never a couple?"

"_Mione_…"

"Sorry, sorry! I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't…my ass…"

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing. You were saying?"

"So Harry is not interested in the female sex."

"Yes—he is homosexual; the answer is not going to change no matter how many different ways you phrase it, 'Mione."

"Sorry, just trying to wrap my mind around it. It _is_ a bit of a shock, you know. I mean, I'm his best friend! I'm observant! So why didn't I observe that he prefers his own sex?"

"I dunno. Why don't _you_ tell _me_?"

"Hmm… Well, there was the Cho incident – he displayed every single classic sign of having a major crush on her!"

"Mmhmm."

"So… If he had a crush on her, then how can he be gay?"

"You're not thinking outside the box. You're looking at it from the same perspective. You're inventive – try a new one."

"You're right. Well, he was always blushing… People blush when they are embarrassed or ill at ease. Well, if he was gay, I guess he _would_ be ill at ease around her… It would also certainly explain why their date went so abysmally…"

"Much better. Keep going."

"So Harry tried dating her because everyone thought he had a crush, and he didn't really understand it, and he's always been so dense about emotions… I guess it would be pretty easy for him to not understand what a crush felt like, and if we were all telling him that that was what he felt…"

"_Finally_ we're getting somewhere."

"So Harry really is gay, and the Cho Chang incident was just that – an incident."

"Yes."

"And you two really _aren't_ seeing each other."

"Hermione!"

"Sorry!"

**

* * *

**By the time Harry returned to the Gryffindor dormitories, Ginny had finally drummed it into Hermione's skull that yes, their best friend really was gay. When he entered the room he shared with the other seventh year boys, he was immediately greeted with a hug from a teary eyed Hermione. Hugging her back, he looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with an exhausted looking Ginny. Ginny gave him the thumbs up, then rolled her eyes towards her older brother, who was standing awkwardly by his bed. 

"Oh Harry," Hermione began, pulling away to smile at him, "I wish you had told us earlier! We're very accepting, you know."

Ginny had a discrete coughing fit in the background.

"Er, Yeah Mione, I know." _Yeah, I knew that you would react all weird like you did. I don't think I even _want_ to know what kind of conversations you had with Ginny after I left. I probably owe her _big_ time.  
_

Ron watched them for a minute, then hesitantly shuffled forward, his face a brilliant scarlet. "Hey mate," he mumbled, "s'rry 'bout the other night. That was, was wrong of me." He looked straight up into Harry's eyes and met the emerald gaze for a second before he looked away, face getting even redder. "It's, um, going to take me a while to, you know, get used to you, being, you know…"

"Gay?" Harry inquired with a Severesque quirking of the eyebrow. He had to admit to feeling a surge of guilty pleasure as the redhead's face glowed even brighter.

"Er, yeah. Um, so, its uh, going to take awhile, but, Harry, mate—I'm going to try." He looked up and looked Harry straight in the eyes, and this time he didn't look away. "We've gone through too much together, so, I'll try."

Harry felt his chest squeeze tight with emotion, and he smiled softly at the first friend he'd ever made. "Thank you," he said quietly.

**

* * *

**

Ginny's face ached with the relieved grin that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face. Hermione had come to terms with Harry's sexuality after several hours of coaching—right in time, too. It had been highly frustrating for the younger witch, but she'd had endured it, and had to admit it was worth seeing the gratitude shining brightly in those two green eyes… _Not that I'm not going to tell him that he owes me big time for my skillful manipulation of what could've been a potentially volatile situation. I'll have to ask him later what on earth possessed him to run away like that. I mean, he's a Gryffindor for goodness sake! _

But while Hermione had been carefully coached, her neglected older brother had been left to come to his own conclusions. Ginny had known that she wouldn't be able to do anything to bring him around—other than beat some sense into him, and as she'd already attempted it, she didn't think it was worth exerting herself to try again. So when he had presented himself to the black haired boy with his stumbling yet completely heartfelt speech, Ginny had been proud. Really _really_ proud. _In fact, I think he _might_ even deserve an apology from me when all of this is done. …Then again, maybe not. But I'm still awfully proud of him, and I'll tell him one of these days when it won't embarrass him quite so much._

So, smiling broadly, Ginny carefully exited the room and closed the door softly behind her. She had the feeling the trio had quite a lot to talk about.

* * *

**Chapter Four:** Monkey See, Monkey Do; an Interlude 


	4. Monkey See, Monkey Do

**Chapter Four: Monkey See, Monkey Do. **(aka Deranged Minds)

* * *

_**xxx The Past: beginning of sixth year xxx**_

Harry glared fiercely at the Headmaster, green eyes smoldering. "You _promised_," he hissed angrily. "You _promised_ at the beginning of term that you would teach me Occlumency to keep Voldemort out of my head."

Dumbledore gave a tiny sigh and looked down at his folded hands. His Golden Boy would _not_ like this announcement in the slightest. "I'm sorry, Harry." He raised his head and met the expressive green eyes. "I truly am. However, with Voldemort on the rise, I simply do not have the time. I agree that you need to be trained, but I cannot do it myself."

Harry's eyes darkened, and the emotion left his face. He knew what was coming next. "You're having Snape teach me again."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore chided gently. "And yes, he is the logical choice. Your lessons begin next week."

Without a word, the black haired sixth year spun on his heels and left the room.

* * *

**xxx _One week later _xxx**

Harry groaned as he checked the time. His first Occlumency lesson of the year would be beginning in less than half an hour, and the Gryffindor was dreading it. It wasn't that he _hated_ Snape anymore—at least, not _really_. He'd like to think he had matured somewhat over the past year. Especially after everything he now knew about Snape and his activities for the Order of the Phoenix, and what he'd seen in the Pensieve.

_Ye gods, the Pensieve. _I_ might no longer hate _him_, but I'm certain the farthest thing from _his_ mind is forgiveness of _me_. He hates me because I'm me. Because I'm a _Potter_. There is absolutely no way for me to convince him to even _tolerate_ me… He has so many preconceived notions shoved up his ass that I doubt anything will change his mind. I don't even want to know where some of them came from—such as the one about me being a spoiled brat with an idealistic childhood. Ha. And just because those stupid muggles don't let me study over the summer, he thinks I'm stupid. Well, I'm not. And I'm not the troublemaking _child_ that he thinks I am. I am not a child. I haven't _been_ a child since Voldemort marked me._

But there was nothing to be gained by mulling things over and dawdling. In fact, there was everything to be lost. Being late to an appointment with Snape was like getting intimate with a blast-ended skewrt—it just wasn't _done_ if you wanted all your limbs intact.

With another groan and a half-hearted goodbye to his friends, Harry trudged out the door and down to the dungeons. _Hell, here I come._

* * *

**xxx _Fifth session of the year_ xxx**

"Enough," Severus glared down at the boy kneeling on the ground before him, panting heavily. "You are not even _trying,_ Potter. I do not have time for this. Get out of my sight."

Last year this was where the Potter boy would snarl something unbearably rude before storming out. This year he had apparently –finally- grown up, and tended to merely walk out the door without a comment. And that was how Snape liked it.

Apparently today was not to be one of his more fortunate, however, because unlike in previous weeks, the boy was standing up and staring him defiantly in the eyes.

"Sir, I _have_ been trying. I've been doing the best that I know how. Now, I know you think I'm an idiot. _Everyone_ knows you think I'm an idiot— No, please hear me out."

Severus closed his mouth and sighed. _Here we go … _

"See, the way I figure it, I very well might _be_ a complete worthless waste of space who doesn't have an ounce of brains. Goodness knows my aunt and uncle tell me that often enough—but that isn't the point. The point is, that when someone shows me something enough times, I usually start to understand it. You know, like a parrot or a monkey—I see it, I do it. My problem with Occlumency is that I don't understand what it is I'm supposed to do. You tell me to empty my mind, and I _try_—but I can't do it, because you won't explain _how_."

_That made a surprising amount of sense for a babbled rant. In fact, I have to give the boy points for approach—not bad at all. _Severus sighed and leaned back against the desk, giving the teen a hard look. "So, Monkey. You see, you do?"

"Yes," came the calm response. _I'm impressed. He's already learning to handle his emotions… Maybe he won't be quite as hopeless at this as I thought._

"Very well," he replied brusquely. "Let us see if you are indeed salvageable." Without pausing to consider the possible ramifications, Severus pulled out his Pensieve and laid it on the desk. Potter was beginning to look nervous—apparently he remembered his last brush with the memory container… _As if he would forget,_ Severus thought scornfully. _He got to see his perfect father humiliate his most hated Professor—what kind of young boy would forget a cherished memory like that?_ He pushed his bitter mental voice away forcefully. _Not now. I'll wallow in self-pity _later_, when I don't have an antsy teenager in my office._

Carefully selecting a memory of how it felt to clear his mind and how one went about it, he transferred it to the Pensieve. "Alright Potter, let's get this over with." Reaching out, he grabbed the young man's hand in his own and, before the boy could protest, thrust his wand into the Pensieve.

* * *

**xxx _Three sessions later_ xxx**

"_Legilimens!_"

Harry smiled as his mind remained blank, devoid of any thought. It was working! But he was distracted, and the other man broke through his barrier. His aunt was standing over him with a spatula as four-year-old Harry struggled to take the turkey out of the oven by himself. Uncle Vernon screamed in anger as he beat the six-year-old for asking about fairies. Nine-year-old Harry's stomach groaned as he entered the third day of his forced fast. Eleven-year-old Harry smiled in glee as he was told that he would be leaving for boarding school.

With a cry, he forced the Professor out of his mind. That had been one of the more embarrassing chains of memories to relive… He _hated_ people knowing about his childhood. He craved many things—honest affection being one of them—but not pity. _Granted, I think it's safe to say that I shouldn't be worried about Professor _Snape_ pitying me. Far from it… But still. I would rather he _not _witness memories about my childhood. Not even Ron, Mione and Ginny know very much about it._

"I think we'd better call it a night," he said softly from his position on the ground. He refused to meet his professor's eyes. Point blank refused. Silently he stood and walked out the door of Snape's office.

* * *

**xxx _Halfway through term_ xxx**

Somewhere along the lines that year, there had been a subtle shift in Harry's attitude towards his Potions professor. Once someone to be blindly disliked, Harry found himself inexplicably drawn to the enigma that was Severus Snape. After he had begun to prove that he wasn't completely worthless when it came to Occlumency, Snape had begun to ease up. Last week they had carried on an entire—interesting!—conversation without once being anything but civil.

Maybe it had something to do with mutual understanding. Probably a lot had to do with Snape having access to Harry's mind. After all, it was rather hard to blindly hate someone whose mind you knew intimately.

Now _there_ was a scary thought, one that Harry was constantly trying _not_ to deal with. Snape knew more about him and the way his mind worked than anyone but Harry himself. He knew about the Dursleys, the neglect and the cupboard. He knew the feelings it gave Harry to fly. He knew the wonder Harry _still_ felt every time somebody hugged him. He had watched Sirius die, and Cedric die, repeatedly. Felt the guilt of knowing it was _his_ fault. He had heard the dying cries of Lily and James Potter, Voldemort's cruel laughter, the flash of green light.

Over the school year, Snape had learned what made Harry tick, yet he didn't use it. No matter how malicious he acted towards the boy during class, he never _once_ betrayed his trust by using his 'self' against him.

Respect. Mutually, the two men came to respect each other. To the public, nothing changed. But in private, it was a whole new story. A lot of it had to do with Snape no longer being able to equate James to his son. Physical likeness aside, the two were _nothing_ alike. Where at sixteen James had still been an immature _child_, Harry had stared death in the face and called it by its name. He was no child, and not even Severus Snape could place that epithet on him after delving into his memories.

Harry might even go so far as to say that, in private, the two were friends.

* * *

**xxx _Almost a month until end of term _xxx**

There was a little over a month until Hogwarts let out for the summer, and by this time the Occlumency lessons with Snape were more an excuse to have interesting debates then anything else. Although each session always began with a cry of "_Legilimens!_" as soon as Harry stepped across the threshold, there was no formal training left. Now they simply had interesting discussions interspersed with unexpected attempts to hack into each other's minds.

Yes, mutually. Somewhere along the lines "Monkey" Harry had decided to try turning the tables. Of course, this was after the two had become tentative friends, and it had resulted in spectacular failure _despite_ having caught the professor completely off guard…

He had only caught the barest glimpse inside before being forcefully repelled. All he knew was that, creepily enough, it had _something_ to do with him. He had no idea what, though Snape had seemed slightly flustered. He had assumed it was due to embarrassment over having his mind invaded.

After that, however, they cheerfully fired the curse at each other. Harry had only seen into Snape's mind that once, but that never stopped him from trying. After the initial surprise, Snape had even gone as far as teaching Harry how to _correctly_ cast the spell, which was saying a _lot_ about how far the two had come from even the beginning of that year.

Recently, however, things were shifting even further in Harry's mind. He was beginning to see Snape as more than just an interesting and intellectual man—he was beginning to see him as an interesting, intelligent, _beautiful _man.

_It's hard to believe other people don't see it, _Harry mused as he stared at the canopy of his bed, deep in thought. _I mean, he really is absolutely gorgeous! Sure his nose is a bit large—but Hermione used to have abnormally large front teeth, and Ron is convinced that she was still bloody gorgeous then! And yes, he is pale, but so am I. And his hair isn't greasy at all. _Discovering that last fact had been mildly entertaining for the young Gryffindor.

Snape had been teasing him about his flyaway hair, and Harry had made a rather unadvisable comment about Snape not being one to talk about the condition of other people's hair. He had immediately begun to apologize, afraid he had hurt the other man's feelings, but he'd been waved away. "I use a special potion on it," came the amused confession. "Most Potion Masters do. Potion fumes are highly toxic, you see, and irreparably damage hair and skin if you are around them too long. I use a special oil in my hair that protects it—it looks shitty while its in, but I'm not exactly trying to look pretty for my students, am I." Harry had laughed at that, and the conversation has easily drifted on to a new topic.

_I ask again—who could possibly think the man was anything but gorgeous?_

Harry had always known he was gay. Well, maybe not always, but he'd known it for a long time. He had even sat down with his godfather and talked about it a few times while he was staying in Grimmauld Place over the summer. Sirius had been extremely helpful as he came to grips with his feelings, and had supported him unquestionably. "I love you, no matter what," had been a prevalent theme.

Harry had even had a few crushes before this. Cedric Diggory had been one of his first, though he'd gotten over that before the Triwizard Tournament. Following that, he'd briefly had a crush on Lee Jordan, the twin's friend, but he'd gotten over that fairly quickly too. Bill Weasley had also held a brief place in Harry's adolescent longings, but that had faded quickly, replaced by warm, brotherly love.

This... Well, this felt a little more substantial. There was something behind this attraction. Before, it had been physical attraction coupled with an attraction to what the other represented. Here, it was attraction based on truly _knowing _the other party. Because he was pretty sure he knew Snape better than most other people could claim to. Sure he didn't know the older man as well as Snape knew Harry—the whole mind reading thing—but they _had_ spent inordinate amounts of time in each other's company, and _that_ was mutual.

Harry sighed and rolled over. It was time to get up and get going. His 'lessons' were starting soon. _If only I didn't feel like shit run over twice…_ He knew for a fact that he had a fever. He also knew that he should probably remain safely in bed. But no, this was the one time a week he could spend with the one man he was rapidly coming to admire above all others without being a malicious little brat. He was going, and nothing would stop him.

* * *

Severus sighed and glanced at the time. Harry should have been done by now… It wasn't like the boy to be late. _No, not boy. Young man._ With a sigh, Sev ran his hand through his hair. Where _was_ he? 

Recently Severus had begun feeling strangely about his young friend. Over the year he had come to admire Harry's spunk—out of class and disassociated from James it was amazingly laudable. In the past few months, however, that gentle admiration had grown into an uncomfortably tight sensation in his chest whenever he looked at the other man. If he had been anyone other than heart-of-stone Severus Snape he would've said he was in love with Potter.

_But I _am_ the heartless bastard. Besides, he is too young. While he might not be a child, he is still nearly half my age, not to mention my student. It would be wrong in the extreme—and the emotion, if it is love at all, is _definitely _one-sided._ Of that fact he had no question what so ever. There was no possible way for someone as beautiful as Harry to look at someone like him as anything but ugly. He _knew_ that. _Besides, Harry deserves someone his one age. Someone he can _live_ with. And I'm spoiled goods anyway,_ he thought bitterly.

Before he could get too deep into that train of thought, the door opened and a slightly flushed Harry Potter stumbled in through the door. Raising an eyebrow in concern, Severus nonetheless went through the customary ritual of casting the Legilimens curse. Harry should've blocked him with no trouble at all. He should've hit a blank wall—he hadn't been able to delve further than surface thoughts for months!

For some reason he met no resistance, however, and he felt himself drawn into the chaotic thoughts of one Harry Potter.

* * *

(**I debated stopping here, but I decided not to… Sort of. There _is_ more to the chapter, but you'll have to wait for the rest of the get-together story until later. It _is _coming, though. I'll tell you what Sev sees, how he reacts, and how exactly the two end up _together _at a later date. Until then, you're stuck back in the future, with one Draco Lucian Malfoy.**)

* * *

Draco winced as yet another pointed glare was flung at him. It was bad enough that his Housemates had finally settled on shunning him, but enduring seven days of ostracism was worse than he'd thought it would be. _It's a good thing I'm Head Boy,_ he thought wryly. _If I didn't have my own room I would be in serious danger of getting murdered in my sleep. I mean, it isn't as though I'd gone _Light,_ or something hideous like that! I'm a neutral, dammit, like Blaise. If I weren't a Malfoy, Everyone would be treating me exactly the same as always right now! Damn expectations. Growing up expected to be a perfect evil wizard is slightly more stressful than most people give it credit for being._

Looking over at the Gryffindor table, Draco felt a surge of jealousy for the obvious closeness between Harry and his three best friends. Especially the two girls—apparently the elder Weasel was still 'uncomfortable' around the green eyed boy—but still! There was an undeniable air of camaraderie over the four that sparked strange, alien feelings of longing.

_Dammit, I am _not_ the love and snuggles type! I am _not_ jealous of _Potter_ of all people…_ But that was a blatant lie, and he knew it. _If only I could go over there and…_ Suddenly Draco paused. Why _couldn't_ he go over there? It wasn't as though there were actual _rules_ forbidding inter-House mingling during meals. Sure it wasn't _done_, but…

_But I'm a Malfoy and he's a Potter—convention never applied to either of us _anyways_, so why start now?_

Without a single word to the other members of his House, Draco stood up and began his trek across the Great Hall. Silence fell as everyone stared at the notorious Slytherin king. Just because the Slytherins knew he was neutral rather than Dark hadn't stopped him from being an evil git. By now it was so ingrained into his personality that his allegiance didn't really matter anymore—he would always be a sarcastic bastard who didn't know when to shut up.

He had barely gotten ten feet before complete silence had overcome the usual rumble of dinnertime talk. Even the teachers had ceased their conversations in order to follow his progress with curious gazes. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw his godfather's proud smirk—_some_one knew his intentions and approved, at least.

A few more steps carried him past the Ravenclaw table, and it was becoming painfully obvious to his audience where he was headed. A movement at the Head Table caught his attention as Sev placed a warning hand on McGonagall's arm to prevent her from interfering. Every eye watched as he approached the Gryffindor Table.

Well, _almost_ every eye. Harry was blissfully ignoring him, despite the rather frantic nudges from the people sitting around him. At least it _appeared_ that he was ignoring them. In the past few weeks, Draco had come to find that the other boy was almost hyper aware of his surroundings. He was also a far better actor than anyone gave him credit for. _He was supposed to be in Slytherin, though, so I certainly would hope so. He's also managed to hide his relationship with Sev for almost a year now… And with me this last month, though I'm about to blow all his efforts at remaining low._

Then he was there, standing directly behind Harry, and the hatred and distrust radiating off the surrounding people was nearly palpable. Everybody in the Hall held their collective breath. The Weasley girl began rising in her seat to Potter's left, hand clenched tightly around her wand. The tension mounted.

Suddenly Harry scooted over toward the girl, pushing her back into her seat. Without even looking over his shoulder, he patted the now empty seat beside him. "Sit down, Dray—you know I hate people hovering over my shoulder."

_So he's willing to let the cat come out of the bag yowling and dancing a jig. Excellent._ Smirking, Draco complied. "I don't suppose I might be able to claim partial responsibility for your paranoia," he trailed off wistfully as Harry laughed lightly.

"Of course you can! After all, it's only been your life's purpose for the past six and a half years to get me killed or expelled—you know, whichever came first as long as it resulted in general misery on my part."

"Come now, Harry! You give me far too much credit!"

Harry smirked and passed him the potatoes. "Trust me Dray—you are single-handedly responsible for any and all homicidal urges I've felt since entering Hogwarts," he replied dryly.

"Really?" cried Draco, eyes shining with mock glee.

"Well… No, actually, I take that back." Draco's face fell so fast that it was obvious he was acting. "I'm afraid Professor Snape has also, on multiple occasions, instilled in me the inexplicable urge to slaughter something."

Draco's eyes sparkled as he truly enjoyed himself for the first time since… Well, he didn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so thoroughly. Sure it was fun joking around in Sev's rooms with his two favorite people in the world, but this was on a whole different level. Not only was he playfully bantering with someone he was rapidly coming to see as a best friend, he was also simultaneously screwing with the heads of the entire Hogwarts population. Life was good.

"Yes, well, he isn't the Head of Slytherin for nothing, you know. So, I guess I can forgive him for usurping my monopoly on you misery."

"Very eloquent, Dray—but speaking of making people miserable, I hope you've been leaving that fourth year Hufflepuff alone."

"Yeah, yeah—he's not worth the effort it takes to think up scathing remarks. I prefer someone who at least _attempts_ to fight back—makes my inevitable victory so much sweeter!" Draco sent an amused Harry a sparkling smile. "Why do you think I like picking on you Gryffindorks so much?"

"Hmm. I don't know, maybe it's because, like a puppy, you keep coming back to the scene of your defeat, _ferret_."

Gryffindor Table held its breath. The exchange was so puzzling that they couldn't even begin to guess how the blonde would react.

"Oh, ouch!" cried Draco, clapping his hands to his heart and reeling backwards dramatically. "I'm hurt, Harry, really hurt!"

Harry rolled his eyes and snorted at his friend's antics. "Oh, cut the melodramatics, Draco. We all know you're a heartless bastard—you have no feelings or heart to hurt."

Draco froze in the act of swaying, blinked, then sat up calmly. "Damn, he saw through me. On to phase two of operation Con the Golden Boy Into Conceding Defeat."

By now those in the Great Hall had recovered from their shock enough to burst into a wild roar of speculation and gossip. The strange conversation was all anyone seemed to be talking about—even the professors were speculating wildly about the drastic changes in the two (former?) rivals. McGonagall looked ready to faint, and kept muttering about needing old Ogden at times like this. Flitwick had, predictably, fallen off his chair. Trelawney was so completely flabbergasted that she forgot to make dire predictions about the impending doom of one or both of the new friends. Snape merely sneered in the general direction of the Gryffindors, though inwardly he gloated.

Around Draco and Harry, however, the silence remained until—

"H-Harry, d-d-don't tell me…" Ron was bright red, sputtering, and looked torn between killing Harry, killing Draco, and killing himself.

Harry raised an eyebrow, deciding maliciously to allow Ron to struggle without the help of Harry inferring what he was desperately trying _not _to say. "Don't tell you what?" he inquired innocently.

If possible, Ron darkened a few more shades of red. "You two aren't… _together_, are you?" The choked whisper hung in the air for a moment. Harry was about to tiredly explain that no, Draco was _not_ his boyfriend, when Draco himself stepped in. Curious to see what would happen, Harry—stupidly, he would later note—allowed the Slytherin to take center stage.

"Me and Potter?" the blonde drawled. "Interesting notion." He turned and made a show of looking Harry up and down. "Very interesting."

Harry blushed lightly—the only reason he wasn't panicking under the scrutiny was that he knew without a doubt that Draco was very straight. Except…

Suddenly Draco lunged forward and captured his lips. Surprised, he simply sat there, eyes wide in shock. Smirking, Draco pulled away, paused, then continued on with a sneer. "Yes, interesting, but not at all possible." Making a face, he sniffed slightly. "You can't kiss worth _shit_ Potter. Give me a pretty girl any day. Like Miss Weasley," he added with a rakish grin and eloquent gesture. "For all that she's a Weasley, I bet _she's _a decent kisser."

Harry huffed, coming out of his shock-induced stupor. He _really_ hadn't been expecting Draco to do that, especially in the middle of the Great Hall… Who knows what rumors that would start! Hopefully no one saw… He glanced at the Head Table and cringed slightly at the look on Sev's face. He quickly turned back to the conversation, and made a note to himself to thoroughly ravish his lover as soon as humanly possible.

Ginny was currently blushing, unsure exactly how to react. Sure she could be loud, outspoken, and violent—but that was only towards the people she knew intimately. To the rest of the world she was extremely quiet. How was she supposed to react here? Harry had told her a little bit about becoming friends with Malfoy, but being confronted with the reality was something else entirely… Especially when said reality was openly flirting with her. Finally, after catching a glimpse of Ron's expression, she decided to be daring.

"Just 'decent', Malfoy?" She inquired softly, peering around Harry to raise an eyebrow at the blonde. "I have it on excellent authority that I am better than 'decent.'"

Across the table, Ron choked and Ginny flashed a mischievous smile in his direction. Draco snickered at Ron's expression. "You know what, Little Weasley? I think I like you. You have Draco's Official Stamp of Approval. Congratulations—you're only the second Gryffindor ever to have that honor." Privately he made note to actually place said stamp on the backs of both Gryffindors before the end of the school year.

Ginny sniffed playfully. "Well, that's all well and good, but don't assume _you_ have _mine._"

Draco turned to Harry and commented—loudly—in an aside, "she's _damn_ good. Of course, I expected nothing less from a girl you speak highly of _and_ who shares a nickname with an alcoholic beverage."

Harry chuckled and gave Ginny a one armed hug. "Yeah, Gin is definitely intoxicating—leaves you with a hell of a hangover, too!" he grinned at his best friend, who rolled her eyes at him. Laughing often, they continued chatting blithely with Draco, all three becoming slowly more comfortable with the arrangement.

"Why you pompous git!" Ginny cried, laughing, a short time later.

"You called?" Draco said mildly, smirking at the redhead's reaction to his admittedly arrogant comment. _Damn Gryffindors are fun to rile up! Easy, too,_ he noted as Ginny glared at him teasingly.

This was everything he could've hoped it to be. Harry's friends, though wary of him and not _precisely_ welcoming, were a marked improvement over the way his own House was currently acting toward him. _Except Blaise. Maybe I'll bring him with me next time. I think he'd get a real kick out of our bantering, too._

"So, Malfoy," Granger began, watching him suspiciously. She had been very quiet since he had joined them uninvited, and he had a feeling that she'd been analyzing everything he'd said and done since then. He also had a feeling that she was about to ask a horribly uncomfortable question that everyone but Harry was dying to know the answer to.

So, Granger," he drawled back, raised an eyebrow at the pretty brunette.

She colored slightly at his mocking tone, but forged ahead bravely. "I hope you don't mind me being forward, but I have to know, for Harry's sake."

Said teen raised an eyebrow at his friend's unfounded and unasked for concern, and Draco gave a self-defacing smile. "But of course, Granger. After all, I _am_ an evil, bloodthirsty wizard in training who is after your best friend's scrawny neck."

"Actually, the bloodthirsty wizard in training thing is what I needed to ask you about."

"Figures—Gryffindorks are _so_ predictable." A glare caused him to shut up, though he allowed his amused smirk to linger.

"Do you have or will you be getting the Dark Mark?"

"You're right," Draco said dangerously, "that _is_ forward of you." Those around him were leaning closer in anticipation, though they were also watching him as if he were a dangerous animal who might bite them. He briefly considered informing them that it was none of their bloody business, but Harry's reproachful stare stopped him. His acceptance by the Gryffindors hinged on how he answered this question.

Silently the blonde rolled up his left sleeve, barring the pale, unmarred skin of his forearm. Letting the sleeve fall again, he watched as Harry's friends let out a collective sigh of relief. Slowly a smirk stole across his face.

"What, did you honestly expect me to allow my perfect skin to be disfigured by some hulking ugly black spot on my arm? I'm much too pretty to ruin myself like that!"

On Harry's other side Ginny made an odd choking sound, as though she were holding back laughter. Encouraged, Draco gave everybody an innocent smile.

"And that's the only reason you aren't a Death Eater?" Hermione asked scornfully.

"Of course not!" Draco replied with a sweet smile. "See, I don't much care for all the bowing and scraping and kissing of hems. The way I see it, _I_ should not be doing that to someone else—I am, after all, an intelligent and powerful _pure_blood. Other people ought to be kissing ass to _me_."

The chocking sounds from Harry's other side got louder, and Draco smirked with pride at the reaction he was receiving—Harry seemed pretty amused, too.

"Oh really," came a strained voice from across the table. Draco smiled evilly at the Weasel, who immediately clammed up again.

"Well, there's also the fact that blood stains are hard to remove from silk robes,"—a dramatic sigh and an innocent look straight into Ginny's eyes—"and do you have _any_ idea, Miss Weasley, how difficult it is to get dried blood out from under freshly manicured nails?"

That did it. To his left Harry and Ginny both burst into laughter, and the Weasel quickly left the table. _Oh yeah, I'm good. I'm _damn_ good._

* * *

**Chapter Five: **Anticipation: In which the author decides to postpone the scene this story is obviously building up to. 


	5. Anticipation

**Chapter Five: Anticipation **(aka The Fast and The Furious)

* * *

Every year Harry Potter had one truly terrifying brush with death. Everybody knew that. In fact, by his seventh year, you could almost set your calendar to it. Once a year, without fail, _something_ would set out to kill the young Boy-Who-Lived, and he would always manage to escape by a hair's margin right in time for the awarding of the House Cup. (Which you could also now guarantee as going to Gryffindor in commiseration for Potter failing to win the Darwin award—you know, better luck next year.) 

According to most of the students at Hogwarts, Harry's Year Seven Death Defying Stunt had cordially sat down and had dinner with him. Go figure.

The day after the Draco Incident, everyone regarded Harry with a mixture of awe, respect, and no little wariness. Kind of like one would regard a benignly insane delinquent, or a cornered hypogriff. Halfway through the day, as they were heading for Potions, Seamus could hold it in no longer. He brought up the one subject that was at the tip of everybody's tongues, but that no one was brave (or stupid) enough to bring up directly to the involved parties.

"So, Harry—taken to taming dragons? I thought you got over that in fourth year!"

"Nah," Harry replied with a light smile, "the first task just whetted my appetite! Dragons make such good pets." He said the last a little louder than necessary, and he heard telltale soft laughter behind him.

"So I'm a pet, now, am I?" came the expected drawl.

The Gryffindors froze, and Seamus paled slightly. Hermione looked wary, and didn't seem quite sure whether she ought to put all her defenses up or relax in the presence of someone Harry seemingly considered a friend. Harry merely sniggered and tossed Draco an arch glance.

"Yeah, you're a pet. Come, boy!" and with that, the chase was on.

Hermione and Seamus were left gaping in the dust as the two seventeen year olds (well, actually, seventeen year old and eighteen year old, as Draco had already celebrated his birthday, but I guess that isn't all that important to the story…) raced off down the hall laughing.

"Er, am I imagining things, or…?"

"Unfortunately, Seamus, I believe that Malfoy really _is_ chasing Harry threw the halls of Hogwarts after Harry managed to thoroughly insult him."

"Ok, as long as that's settled." There was a moment of silence as the two seventh years tried to get their minds around the strange phenomena. "And, er," continued Seamus after a long pause, "is it just me, or were _both _of them _laughing_ like deranged maniacs?"

"Again, unfortunately we are either sharing the same hallucination—which is definitely not impossible, as this _is_ Hogwarts—or what you saw and heard are the truth."

"…bloody hell."

**

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**

"Out of my way! Quick, or he'll catch me!"

Students scattered out of the way as their hero barreled through the halls, screaming and laughing. They stared in shock as, close on his heels, a similarly screaming and laughing Draco Malfoy gained on the shorter boy.

"I'll get you my pretty!"

"And my little dog too? Wow Dray, didn't take you for a Muggle movie fan!"

"Oh, you won't be laughing if I catch you!"

"I'll be what, screaming your name in pleasure?"

"Why you!"

Rumors flew, and quickly the greater portion of the student body knew of the strange sight that awaited anyone who happened to be in the path to Snape's classroom. Children lined the hallways, craning their ears and shushing their classmates, hoping to hear and witness what was likely going down in _Hogwarts: A History_ as one of the strangest things to ever happen. After all, this was second only to Snape getting romantically involved with someone on the list of most unlikely things to happen this decade!

"Help, the dragon is going to eat me!"

"Roar!"

"Shit, Malfoy!"

"Language, Potter."

"Ah crap," Harry had craned his head around to check on Draco's progress for a moment too long. The students standing around gasped in horror as Harry ran full tilt into Professor Snape, Greasy Git Extraordinaire. With a squeak, Harry and Sev tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap, followed closely by Draco, who had been unable to stop in time to keep from careening into them.

Around the pile, students backed away warily, holding their breaths. Harry and Draco were both gasping for breath, trying not to laugh as Sev growled in annoyance. Draco quickly scrambled up, having been on top, and dusted himself off. He carefully schooled his face into a look of disdain as he glared at their audience. Briefly he considered hauling Harry off of his godfather, but he decided against it—he knew them both well enough that they would prefer to wiggle their way out of this one, so to speak.

_Besides, I have to salvage what little there is left of my reputation as an asshole! Damn, now I'm going to have to go threaten some Muggle-borns to make up for this scene. Not that it isn't a lot of fun or anything, but I was kind of hoping to spend my last month at Hogwarts a little more constructively—like pranking all the Gryffindors, or something of the ilk._

Harry, in the mean time, was having a very hard time trying not to give himself away. Here he was, with his lover pinned beneath him, looking _very _scrumptious… It was all he could do to keep from snogging his professor rotten. And it _really_ didn't help that in trying to get _off_ the man as quickly as possible, they were rubbing and grinding together in a most provocative fashion. After a few tries to just stand up, all of which ended in him falling unceremoniously against the older man's chest, he settled for rolling off his professor and standing up _after_ he was free of the tangle.

Quickly scrambling to his feet, he glared at Draco, who was obviously trying hard to swallow his laughter. He turned back to his lover, who had picked himself up and was striving to look dignified despite the red tinge to his cheeks. _Ah crap, here is where Gryffindor looses a few hundred points in order to keep up appearances…_

"_What_ is the meaning of this, _Potter_." Snape hissed angrily, eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry Professor," Harry began, bowing his head to hide his smirk. He would go down fighting, for once! "But Malfoy here," he gestured toward Draco, who raised an eyebrow questioningly, "told me that we were going to be late for your class. As I am sure you know, sir," he gave a small, ironic bow towards the Professor, "only a complete fool is late to your class. As I am only half a fool, I decided to make a run for it. Apparently Malfoy is also less than a fool, as he too hurried so as not to disappoint our favorite Professor." Harry gave a cheeky smile, and Draco inwardly groaned. He might as well have sealed his doom.

But to everyone's amazement, Professor Snape did _not_ immediately begin screaming at the Golden Boy. Rather, his eyes narrowed further, and took on a rather predatory glint.

"Only half a fool, Potter?"

Harry made a show of getting a bit nervous. Actually, it wasn't even that much of an act—the way his lover was looking at him sent shivers down his spine. If they were alone… Harry gulped. _Baaad thoughts. _Really_ bad thoughts._

An angry sneer plastered on his face, Sev marched forward and grabbed one of Harry's ears, causing the teen to yelp. "I think _I_ will be the judge of how foolish you are, brat." With that, he dragged Harry away by the ear, leaving Draco to blink after them. Silence reigned in the hall, as no one dared breath. Finally Draco shook his head to clear it and proceeded imperially to the dungeons.

By the time Hermione and Seamus reached the stretch of halls where the confrontation had taken place, the area was clear, though the castle was already alive with gossip.

**

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**

Sev threw open the door to his office and pulled Harry inside, only to shove him back against the closed door, pinning the boy by placing long fingered hands on either side of his head. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," he breathed into his lover's ear. "I couldn't have asked for a better excuse to give you detention for the rest of the bloody year." With that, he brought his mouth down in a searing kiss.

They spent the next three minutes snogging, until the bell rang for class to begin. "Happy anniversary, Harry," whispered Sev, as he breezed past his lover and into his classroom. Harry had to pause a minute to straighten out his robes (how did Sev always manage to remain impeccable even after three minutes of furious snogging?) and to wipe the silly grin off his face at his lover's parting words.

As he entered the classroom after the older man, he tried to look chastised and subdued. He must have been a better actor than he thought, because everybody seemed to buy it. _Tonight. Tonight is our anniversary. It has been exactly twelve months since I slept in his bed. It has been exactly 365 days since my rather spectacular admission of love. It has been 8760 hours since he tentatively told me he liked me too. It's been 525,600… Oh, wow, ignore me. I have too much time on my hands if I'm calculating _minutes_ in my head…_

With supreme effort, Harry pulled his head out of the clouds right in time to be informed that he'd just lost five points for Gryffindor for sleeping in class—never mind that he'd been staring raptly at the teacher the entire time.

**

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**

At dinner that night Harry was forced to answer several pointed questions about his sanity. What had he been thinking? Rumor had it that not only had he been chased by a _laughing Draco Malfoy_, he had also crashed headlong into _Professor Snape_ who had apparently _not_ taken inordinate amounts of points from Gryffindor, but had, instead, dragged the Golden Boy through the halls _by his ear_. And if that wasn't enough, it was also rumored that he had been cheeky to Hogwarts' most feared professor, and no one knew precisely what his punishment was. (Though popular belief held that Snape had fed Harry some sort of Potion that allowed the Greasy Git to control his mind, because he was currently glaring at everyone who insulted said teacher.)

After one instance of glaring heatedly at Seamus, who was lamenting the unfairness of a world in which a greasy Slytherin could teach at a prestigious school like their own, Harry received a pointed elbow in the ribs from Ginny, who had apparently decided that he was being way too unsubtle about his feelings on the subject.

"Harry, at least _act_ like you agree with them," she hissed under her breath. "You've done it every day this year, why can't you manage today?"

"It's our anniversary," came the short, similarly very quiet reply.

"Ah."

After that, Ginny took even more care to insure Harry didn't give himself away. As the others seized an opportunity for a Snape Bash Fest, Ginny took great care to elbow or pinch Harry whenever a sour face was appropriate, and tickled his ribs whenever he needed to smile or laugh. In the end she only succeeded in an irritated Harry tackling her on the way back up to the common room, tickling her madly in retribution, but she sort of accomplished her goal—no one noticed Harry's strange reactions to the Snape Jokes.

**

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**

That evening was the first of the detentions he had received as 'punishment' for his little chase scene with Draco. Waving absentmindedly to his friends, he headed down toward the dungeons. This was it. Tonight was the night… He quickly became caught up in daydreams for what would go down that night. _If all goes as planned_…

He paid for his lack of attention by crashing headlong into Ginny, who was running full speed in the opposite direction. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap, laughing as they recognized the other.

"You're certainly looking horribly cheerful Harry m'lad! And here I'd heard you were in for a terrible detention with a certain overgrown bat!" Ginny winked at him conspiratorially, and Harry grinned back at her.

"Yeah, well, I'm obviously just cheerful because I was hoping to run into you!"

"Literally," she added, snickering slightly.

Standing, he helped her to her feet and dusted off her robe. "There. You look as mildly presentable as ever, Ginny-kins!"

Wrinkling her nose at him, she shook her head. "And you look as rumpled as ever—like you just got out of bed. Someone _else's_ bed, no less… That definitely won't do." Frowning, she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the girl's bathroom.

"Ginny!" Harry squeaked. "This is the _girl's_ toilet!"

"No, It's _Myrtle's_ toilet. There's a slight but distinct difference. Now come here. You look horrid, love, and only a girl's touch is going to fix that. Strip."

Harry gaped at her. "Gi-Ginny!"

Waving her hand at him negligently, the younger girl began digging through her bag. "Oh, come on, Harry. You just _told_ me you were gay, so it shouldn't matter—and it's not like I'm telling you to take everything off—just your outer robes."

Blushing slightly and mumbling that she hadn't made any specifications of the sort, the flustered Boy-Who-Lived did as he was told. "So what exactly are you planning to do to me?" he asked, eyeing her dubiously. He wasn't sure he liked the glint in her eyes.

"I'm going to give you a makeover."

Bemused, Harry followed each of her commands. Within ten minutes she stepped back, smiling beatifically.

"There, you look marvelous! Not that you didn't look wonderful before, Harry, you just look bloody brilliant now! I'm good," the girl preened. "I'm _damn_ good."

Not quite sure what to expect, Harry turned slowly toward the mirrors. Ginny had done all sorts of arcane things to his hair, face, and clothes, and he had no idea what to expect. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath—now or never…

When he opened his eyes, he had to do a double take. The boy looking over at him was one he had only glimpsed once before – and that memory paled in front of what he saw now. This 'other' Harry had come out for the Yule Ball during his fourth year – but if that Harry had been wonderful, then Ginny was right – this Harry was bloody brilliant.

The little witch had placed shrinking charms on all of his old, worn-out clothing. They were still shabby, but now they actually _fit_ him, instead of making him look as though he were dressed in circus tents. And the clothes didn't just _fit_ him – they clung to him in a way that made him smile. If Sev could barely keep his hands to himself _before_… '_That man doesn't stand a _chance_ today.'_ And that was just the clothes.

Ginny had also done something arcane to his hair that made the usually untamable mass of raven hair behave itself. His signature round spectacles, which had always been the bane of his existence, had also undergone a drastic change. His little sister had managed to transfigure them into a new, slightly rectangular shape that seemed to transform his entire face. No longer did his glasses hide his sparkling eyes—they accented them, and accented the angular shape of his face, and…

"Oh _Ginny_…"

Ginny's grin got wider, if that was at all possible. Standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, she whispered in his ear. "Good luck, Harry – and happy anniversary."

Taking a step back, she threw his bag at him, spun him around, and pushed him out the doors of the bathroom. Once out in the hall, she smacked him hard on the ass, giggling as he gave her a stunned, slightly offended stare. "Run along, hun. Can't keep dear old Professor Snape waiting! I've heard he has less patience than me!"

Harry hurried through the halls of Hogwarts, still slightly stunned by Ginny's actions. It seemed it was a better thing to confess to her than he'd originally thought! His steps became more hurried – what _would_ Severus think? A mischievous grin spread across the green-eyed boy's face. Oooh, this would be _good_!

Practically skipping his way to the dungeons, he slipped unnoticed into the Professor's private chambers, where he knew Sev would be waiting for him. "Sev?" he called, tucking his bag into the corner. "You in here, love?"

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**  
Next Chapter:** Chapter Sex 


	6. Chapter Sex

**A/N:** What you've all been waiting for, I suppose. The exchange of aniversary gifts and more... Just so you're warned, I hate sex scenes - both writing and reading them. I mean, I really don't want to know as much as some authors want to tell you. In case that sort of thing squicks you, don't worry. My "sex scene" is more artsy than anything else, and you can use your own dirty mind to fill in the holes if you really want to.

Also, this is the chapter that _should_ have housed the song "Your Body is a Wonderland" that this story originally got it's title from. The reason this story was so abruptly removed was because the Admin Nazis decided songfics are Not Good. I have remedied this by (very reluctantly) removing the song.

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**Chapter Sex** **

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**

Practically skipping his way to the dungeons, Harry slipped unnoticed into the Professor's private chambers, where he knew Sev would be waiting for him. "Sev?" he called, tucking his bag into the corner. "You in here, love?"

"I'm in the bedroom," came the muffled reply, and Harry let a completely un-Gryffindorish smirk play on his lips. Maybe he _would_ luck out today! After all, Sev had promised that things would be interesting, and Harry was secretly hoping that he was implying they would finally go all the way. _He_ certainly wanted to…

_But I don't blame Sev for wanting to take things slow. I know he's got some really bad self-esteem problems. I know for a fact he thought in the beginning that I was just infatuated and would grow out of it quickly. Today's our one year anniversary, so maybe he's finally gotten it through his thick skull that I love him. Yeah, _love_ him. Not just lust after his sexy body, though that's certainly true as well._

Harry could still remember the day they had first found out about their mutual attraction. Harry had been feeling miserably ill, but wasn't about to tell Severus, because this was his only chance to be alone with a man he had rapidly come to admire above all others. He went, high fever and all.

Despite Harry usually being able to put up nearly perfect defenses, Sev had broken through with one try and almost no effort. Immediately he had been bombarded with Harry's not-quite platonic thoughts about him. By that time, though, Harry was too far gone to notice or care, and the floor was starting to look highly appealing. It would feel mighty good to lay his burning forehead on those cool stones…

So he did, falling gracelessly to the floor in a heap of fevered Harry. _Poor Sev didn't know what to make of it, let alone what to actually _doHarry thought wryly. _The poor bloke was still trying to figure out how to react to what he'd just pried out of my head, and there I was pulling fainting stunts on him! Even _he _admitted it was one hell of a way to tell him I loved him, though…_

_I__n my defense, it's not as if I could send him roses or something. I mean, that would not only be extremely _weird_, I would probably alienate him forever. Imagine! Severus Snape, one of the darkest figures at Hogwarts, receiving a dozen red roses and a love note._ Harry's mental voice snickered at the image _that_ conjured—complete with Sev standing in front of a group of flabbergasted children. _The children would probably die from heart attacks, _he thought with amusement. _Besides, I would _never_ have taken Sev as the gay type, and didn't think he could _possibly_ return my affections, for a large variety of reasons. Granted, _I'm _not exactly a poster boy for 'the gay type'—thank Merlin— so, go figure._

That night Sev had tucked him into the Potion Master's own bed, and had heroically elected to sleep—virtuously alone—on the couch. The fever hadn't been a big enough deal to call down Madam Pomfrey and had been taken care of with a few well-chosen potions. After all, it would've looked distinctly odd for _Snape_ to be carrying an unconscious Harry Potter through the halls of Hogwarts…

_So I slept in his bed for the very first time exactly one year ago. Unfortunately I haven't been back in it since, but maybe today is my lucky day. It would certainly be _awfully_ romantic…_

Repressing his thoughts for the moment, Harry made his way to the open doorway leading into Sev's bedroom and lounged languidly on the frame. Smiling softly he watched his lover for a moment, drinking in the sight of the tall dark and handsome wizard who was currently hunting through one of his multiple trunks. The man was truly beautiful… The soft black hair had been washed to remove the potion that kept it nice, and Harry's fingers itched to run through it. White porcelain skin would've made anyone else look sickly, but it made Sev seem to glow.

"Like a doll." Harry murmured. "My precious Sevvie-doll."

Severus Snape spun around, fully intending to glare at his impertinent boyfriend. He put up with a lot of things from his younger lover, including a few mild pet names. 'Sev' was one that he was actually (secretly) extraordinarily fond of. A teasing 'Professor' was amusing and pleasant under the right circumstances. 'Slytherin Prat' was an honor. Being compared to any number of dark and frightening sorts of things was expected. Being compared to a child's plaything—much less a _doll_—was more than slightly insulting to his very Slytherin sense of pride. Having such a ridiculous pet name as 'Sevvie' tacked on to the front of it made it intolerable.

The scathing retort died on his lips, however, when he saw the New-And-Improved Harry™. "Merlin…" he whispered instead, deciding to simply get back at his lover at a later date. Drinking in the vision of beauty before him, he was even tempted to simply forgive the boy. Almost. But he would appreciate the current view. "You put Adonis to shame."

Harry snorted slightly, ruining _that_ image, but other images sprang up quickly. Severus had seen Harry with his shirt off—they _had_ played around before—but never had he seen the boy look so good with all his clothes still _on_. _Granted, I still prefer him _without_ his shirt…_

"Well, happy anniversary Sev—courtesy of Ginny Weasley, by the way. She decided that it wouldn't do for me to look like I'd just gotten out of bed with someone else on our anniversary."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but remained silent as he walked over to his boyfriend and leaned down to claim a searing kiss. Pulling away only when they could no longer breath, Sev reached and hesitantly touched Harry's hair, as if afraid it would jump up and bite him—or possibly return to its previous state of disarray. Grinning, slightly out of breath, Harry nodded.

"You can touch it, Sev—it won't bite. I still don't know quite what Ginny did to it, but I imagine it's strong enough to last through just about anything we can think of putting it through."

Sev smirked. "Anything?"

Harry smirked back. "Anything. Care to test my theory?"

"Oh, that sounds quite pleasant Mister Potter. Quite pleasant indeed." He brought his face down for another passionate kiss, pinning Harry tightly against the wall as he ran his hand through the boy's hair, and brought the other down to rest on his hip.

* * *

_**And this would be where I inserted the beginning few lines of the song "Your Body is a Wonderland." So much for that plan… Just imagine that song playing through this scene, I guess. I suppose that will just have to do.** _

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This was it—Harry could feel it. He'd been right. Sev wasn't going to be able to take the high and mighty road of the chaste one minute longer—and neither was Harry. As soon as they broke off for air, Harry looked right into the onyx depths of his lover's eyes.

"I want this, Sev." He whispered breathily. "I want this more than anything I've ever wanted before."

His breath quickened as he saw Sev's eyes fill with lust, and he knew his own reflected the same emotion. But there was also love. Hand in hand, the two emotions danced in the lovers' eyes.

"I'm my present to you," he finished, grinding their hips together provocatively.

That was all it took. With a sound that was half growl, half moan, Severus attacked his mouth again, then lifted the smaller wizard and threw him haphazardly onto the bed. Harry sprawled there, giggling breathlessly. This was it… He watched with appreciation as his lover slowly removed the billowing outer cloak that caused his students to compare him to an overgrown bat. _They_ foolishly figured he must be hiding a potbelly or an emaciated form underneath it.

So far from the truth…

Harry could feel his blood rushing south as he watched those beautiful, sensual hands divesting their owner of his garments. The man was built like a dancer—all wiry muscle without a single ounce of fat or unnecessary bulk.

He was, in Harry's eyes, Perfection Embodied.

Clad only in black silken pants, Sev crawled up between Harry's legs and claimed his mouth yet again. Slowly, seductively, he stripped him down, staring appreciatively at Harry's bare chest. He had seen it before, but he would never get tired of the sight.

He was, in Sev's eyes, Perfection Embodied.

This was as far as the two had ever gotten before. Serious make-out, removing clothing from the waist up… Usually they would stop here. But not today. With a swift movement, Sev drew off Harry's boxers and smirked at what he saw.

In the second that Sev was distracted, Harry used his Quidditch honed reflexes to flip his lover over onto his back, claiming control of the situation. He smirked at the look of slight surprise in Sev's eyes, and slowly, seductively removed Severus's pants. Starting at his lover's ankles, Harry kissed, licked, and nipped his way up Sev's legs. He paused briefly to tease Sev with his tongue, then continued his journey, causing Sev to groan slightly. Smirking, he paid him no attention and continued to slowly trace kisses up his lover's body, mapping out every inch of the beautiful flesh. Finally he reached his destination and claimed those sweet lips in a searing kiss. Their tongues met and battled, warring for dominance.

So perfect, so beautiful…

* * *

_**More song here. I'm sorry, but I can't bear letting it all run together. It just needs something in between… (Insert irritated huffing noises) And that song was such a perfect fit, too! I hate sex scenes. **_

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****

When they broke apart again, it was Sev who was on top. Smirking down at his green-eyed lover, the older man leaned forward to whisper in Harry's ear. His warm breath sent shivers down Harry's spine, and his hips bucked slightly. "You better not have plans with your friends, Mister Potter—I intend to make this last."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Harry replied breathlessly, gazing deep into ebony eyes.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Harry?" the question was reluctant but sincere, and Harry was flattered—Sev wanted this as much as (and probably more than) he did, but he would stop if Harry asked him to.

"Yes. Oh Merlin, yes."

* * *

_**(Insert off key singing)** _

* * *

Severus Snape had never had what anyone would call a pleasant childhood. He was the child of Death Eaters, and was raised to be one as soon as he was old enough for the Dark Lord to deem him worth the effort of breaking and branding. He had only been a scant year younger than his beautiful Harry when that day had come…

The breaking was the worst. The torture wasn't so bad, not if you'd been raised as Severus had, to expect a blow at any moment, and to know you deserved every one. It had hurt, yes - but at least when it came at the hand of a stranger it didn't hurt his soul so much.

The raping was somewhat worse. He'd always known he was gay—there had never been a doubt in his mind. He'd had a crush on Lucius Malfoy in Hogwarts, and the older boy had known it—he was always flaunting the fact. Oh, the Marauders had a lovely time when they'd discovered _that_ particularly juicy tidbit about little Snivellus. So when it was time for him to be branded, Lucius was right there, smirking proudly as he informed the Dark Lord that _this_ one would happily take it up the ass.

And taken it he had, though not at all happily. He had been raped, branded, and sent back with a pat on the head. He had thought then that he would never be able to love anyone, ever. But he was wrong. Somewhere along the lines he had learned to love again—and the son of his childhood nemesis no less!

But Harry _wasn't_ James. Where the father was a loud mouthed, arrogant show off, the son was quiet but strong—and who _had _something _worth_ being shown off, but preferred not to flaunt it.

Harry was really something else. He was beautiful. He was perfection.

Severus smiled with content as he and Harry moved together in a world all their own.

* * *

_**You're so beautiful, ladidadida. Your body is a magical wonderland, and I'm going to enjoy playing there. Yay, sex!** _

* * *

Sev smiled as he gently brushed the hair out of his lover's eyes as they lay tangled together, panting slightly after their exertion. Propping himself up on an elbow, he looked down at the boy. "I'm afraid Miss Weasley's concoction was unable to withstand our test. Your hair has regained its natural 'I-Just-Got-Out-Of-Bed-With-My-Best-Friend's-Boyfriend' look."

Harry snickered, and Sev's heart tightened. Such a wonderful sound. "Curses on Fred and George for coming up with such a horrid name for my hair style—though as I recall it was _girl_friend, not _boy_friend."

Severus shrugged. "Same difference. This one is more accurate, as I cannot imagine you climbing into bed with Miss Granger, nor any other girl."

He won another snicker out of his boyfriend as Harry wrinkled his nose. "But that implies I'm sleeping with Ron, and that's just _ew_!"

Sev made a similar face. "I agree with your sentiments, but I'm sure I can come up with more sophisticated terms if you give me a moment."

"No."

"I beg pardon?"

Harry smirked and snaked his way provocatively up and over to look down into Sev's eyes. "I said 'no,' I will not give you a moment to ponder Ron. Ponder me."

Damn that boy! It was times like this that Severus was forced to remember that he was twice the boy's age—the kid had too much bloody stamina! But no, he would keep up. He was already becoming aroused again. The boy was rubbing off on him. Flipping Harry over aggressively, he nonetheless cradled the boy's head gently in his hand as they sank down onto the bed for another go.

"Insufferable Gryffindor."

"Slytherin Prat."

_**

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Let's continue paraphrasing! Shika's version of this verse: You have sexy hair, you wriggle pleasantly, I'll do what you tell me, and I'll never hurt you (in bed).**_

* * *

"You sure you can keep up with me?" Sev asked with a smirk, tracing gentle kisses down Harry's soft neck. His lover turned the tables on him by flipping them both over.

"I believe the question is, can _you_ keep up with _me._" Harry corrected with a smirk. "I'm the one with the teenage hormones, after all."

And together they proved that they were both _quite_ up to another round.

_**

* * *

We can "create" love, you know. Because blankets are an ocean and we'll swim in them. And we're going to make this last, so set aside your plans. You're so pretty. You're so pretty, I'm going to touch you. (Note to Nazi Admin! This is all my own! I created it! No plagiarism involved! Just because it is similar in content to that one song that used to be in this chapter… I plead the fifth.)**_

* * *

Much later in the evening the two drifted to sleep, limbs intertwined.

Severus woke up several hours later to the pleasant sight of his lover's sleeping face. _I could get used to this,_ he mused, gently stroking the soft cheek that shared his pillow. _You're so beautiful, Harry. I still can't figure out why you chose an old man like me. Merlin knows I tried to convince you that you would only end up unhappy if you were with me. Thank all the gods you didn't listen. It's so frustrating, though, sometimes. I _know_ you're mine. You're _all_ mine— you've as much as said it, and I know this was your first time. But I look at you, and it hurts to know that I'll never be able to give you what you deserve. _

_But I'm going to try. I'll be damned, but I'm going to try. I will move Heaven, Earth, and Albus Dumbledore to be with you forever. _

_**

* * *

You're annoying because I know you're mine (why yes, you can call me master!) but you're so beautiful you're ugly. Or not… Something like that. (Sorry, paraphrasing isn't really my thing. Ask my English teachers…)**_

* * *

After a few minutes, Harry's eyelids fluttered and lifted, exposing sleep blurred emeralds. Severus watched his lover blink up at him, trying to remember where he was. Sev's hand stilled, and he held his breathe—would Harry have regrets? But the sleepy smile wasn't faked. In fact, it was the most brilliant smile Sev had ever seen, and had he been an emotional Gryffindor his heart would probably be doing back flips.

"G'morning love," mumbled the groggy teen.

"Not quite morning," he replied with a tiny smile. "In fact, several hours until dawn."

"Mmm," was the incoherent reply.

Sev smiled, and his hand went back to stroking the pale cheek. He was rewarded with his lover snuggling closer, leaning into the touch. "We should probably make an effort to get you up to the Gryffindor dormitory before your Housemates wake up," he finally commented reluctantly.

Harry frowned, though his eyes remained closed. "Nnn."

"Well aren't _we_ a morning person."

A grunt was his only reply, and he chuckled softly. He did _so_ enjoy discovering all these little quirks… He himself wasn't usually much of a morning person, but the sight of Harry laying beside him was making him feel uncharacteristically cheerful. Severus frowned slightly at that discovery. He would have to remedy that soon, or he ran the risk of being _nice_ to his students. Deciding that he couldn't possibly allow that risk to stand, he made as if to get out of bed.

Before he had slithered completely out of his rather large bed, a warm set of arms encircled his waist and drew him back towards the naked body that was still curled up beneath his satin sheets. It was an oddly pleasant sensation, though moderately annoying, as it meant he now had to summon the will to get up a _second_ time.

"We really _do_ have to get up, love. I probably shouldn't have let you stay in the first place, and had I been thinking—"

"—you wouldn't have." The soft voice now sounded very much awake.

"Sev… Sev, do you… regret… what we did?"

Severus was startled at the depth of uncertainty and timidity in Harry's voice, and he turned so he was facing his lover again. "Of course not!" he snapped, then softened his expression as Harry drew back slightly. "No, Harry. No regrets." Pulling the young wizard up for a hug, he stroked the young man's back.

"For once in my life, I really do not have any regrets," he commented with a tiny breath of wonder. And he found that, in his heart, it was true.

_**

* * *

There's more! Yes, another refrain of the chorus was supposed to be here. Hmm… You're probably getting really irritated with these impertinent comments. Ah well, I needed something to separate it without the song.**_

* * *

Five minutes later Sev rose from the embrace and walked toward the bathroom door. Turning slightly, he gave the youth in his bed an arch look. "I'm going to take a shower," he informed the boy dryly. "You may stay here until I get out, or you may leave." Secretly he hoped the poor would stay, or even…

"Can I join you?" came the innocent question, though it was accompanied by a rakish smile that was anything but.

Sev raised an eyebrow as Harry grinned enticingly. "Very well."

Half an hour later, the two men were washed, dressed, and comfortably situated on The Couch—which, Harry had finally decided, now that he had experience with both, was equally his favorite place as The Bed—but only when Sev was there to snuggle with. Smiling shyly at the man he loved, Harry drew his bag up onto his lap.

"I lied last night," he commented. Sev raised an eyebrow. "I said I was my gift to you. That was sort of true, but I also got you a _real_ present." He carefully drew out the emerald and silver package and handed it over to his curious boyfriend.

"Dray and I were researching that extra credit project you assigned a few weeks back, and we found a scrap of parchment tucked into one of the books," Harry began as Sev carefully began unwrapping the box. "It was a collection of weird, squiggly lines that made no sense, but before we tossed it aside, I looked at it more carefully." He paused in his story as Sev pulled the paper away from the plain wooden box.

"When I looked at it carefully, the lines moved and reshaped themselves into words that I could read—but Dray couldn't. I tried reading them aloud. It came out Parseltongue."

Sev's head whipped up to stare at the raven-haired youth. "Written Parseltongue?" he asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Was it the Dark Lord?"

"No," Harry replied immediately, without alarm. "That was the first thing we speculated, but it couldn't have been. I've seen Tom's handwriting before," he continued with a vague ironic amusement. "It wasn't his. I tried writing in Parseltongue to see whether the handwriting carries over, and it does. Besides," he said, eyes sparkling suddenly, "It was signed 'Salazar' at the bottom."

Sev felt his curiosity bubbling up. A spell written by Salazar himself? Apparently Harry wasn't going to tell him anything more, so he turned his attention back to the box. Carefully he lifted the latch and pulled the lid open. He swallowed reflexively. Inside the box lay a tiny silver snake, no more than eight inches long. Beside him, Harry leaned forward and hissed something. The snake opened its eyes, revealing bright emerald chips. Raising its head, it looked straight up at Severus.

"I'm keying her to you," his lover commented softly. A few more hissed phrases, and Harry reached in and picked the snake up. Gently he brought the silver creation over to Sev, and the living metal slithered to encircle his wrist. A last hissed command, and the only sign that the creature was still 'alive' was the strange mixture of warm life and cool metal that shifted subtly around his wrist.

Severus literally could not think of anything to say. For the first time in his life, he was completely and utterly speechless. He slowly tore his eyes away from the snake to meet his lover's hesitant smile. His heart twanged slightly as he realized that Harry—whom he knew was very timid about things like personal gifts—was probably reading his silence the wrong way.

Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms tightly around the young man's shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered, voice heavy with a very un-Slytherin emotion.

"She'll protect you," Harry commented softly, his breath tickling Sev's neck as he hugged the older man back. "She's keyed to you and to me. She isn't quite alive—she doesn't have a mind of her own—but she isn't dead, either. The only stimuli she'll react to is one of us. If you are in danger, she'll defend you. If you're bored, don't be surprised if she 'wakes up' and 'plays' with you. If you're just being normal, she'll appear nothing more than an elaborate bracelet."

"I love her. I love _you."_ Sev tightened his arms for a moment, then stood and walked to the door of his bedroom. "I'll be a moment," was all he said as he disappeared through the doorway.

Harry watched him go, smiling brightly. He'd worked extremely hard on the spell that had created the little snake. It had been easily the most difficult spell he had ever attempted—not only had he been creating the snake itself, but also imbuing it with a certain level of sentience, not to mention the powerful protective spells that were an integral part of his creation… Of course, this was also all in Parseltongue, which meant that no one else had been capable of helping him either figure the spell out or complete it.

It was worth it, though. Hearing Severus say "I love you," made all the hours, sweat, and tears poured into the creation worth it. Sev wasn't the type of man to toss around phrases unless he really meant them – and even then, he preferred not to use what he saw useless verbal expressions of emotions. To hear him say those words aloud…

He watched appreciatively as Sev reentered the room, seeming almost to glide as he walked. Oh, how he loved the way that man moved… Severus was holding something in his hand, and Harry was astonished to see that the man was actually visibly nervous to someone who knew the signs. _What on earth could possibly have _Sev_, of all people, nervous?_

Confusion was tinged with worry—was something wrong? Harry was about to get up, but Sev sat down carefully beside him on the couch. Confused green eyes met enigmatic ebony ones. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Sev shook his head, and Harry's mouth closed again. Silently the older man handed Harry a tiny box. His heart stopped for a breath, then sped up astronomically. If this meant…

Inside the box lay a small, unobtrusive ring that was all the more stunning for its quiet beauty. A silver snake with a single chip of emerald for an eye opened its mouth from the left. On the other side, a golden snake with a ruby chip opened its mouth in the opposite direction, as the two tails twined together to make the back of the ring. Clasped between the delicate fangs was a modestly sized diamond.

Harry's breath hitched slightly. It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful ring he'd ever seen—even more spectacular for being small and obviously not designed to attract unnecessary attention. It suited Harry, because Harry was not a flashy personality. He was private by breeding if not by nature, and the quiet elegance was all he could ever ask for. It was perfect.

Long fingered hands removed the box from trembling fingers, and Harry watched with awe as Sev withdrew the ring and looked into Harry's eyes.

"Will you be my Promised One?" Sev whispered, eyes searching for confirmation. "Will you bond with me?"

"Sev, I…"

**

* * *

Next Chapter: Coming Closer**


	7. The Weasley Twins

**Chapter Seven:**And It All Comes Crashing Down

* * *

"Will you be my Promised One?" Sev whispered, eyes searching for confirmation. "Will you bond with me?"

"Sev, I…" Harry stared at his now-lover with wide eyes. Bond with the other man? Wasn't that… Like marriage? Severus Snape was asking _him_, Harry _Potter_, another _man_, to _marry_ him?

If he hadn't already been sitting, he would've sat down quite heavily about now. This was _most_ unexpected. And slightly inconvenient, Harry scowled inwardly. This was definitely not supposed to happen. He was too young, for one thing! Sure he loved the older man, or thought he did, but marriage? He was hardly ready for that sort of commitment.

Standing abruptly, he turned away from Severus and walked over to the door. Placing a hand on the knob, he turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "I can't. It was fun, but I'm too young to be chained down like that. I'm not ready, and I doubt I'll ever be. Now, I'm sorry to run, but Dray is waiting for me."

Severus stared unseeingly as the door slammed shut. Harry didn't… Harry wasn't… Slowly his face melted into a scowl, and he rose is a swift movement. Swearing explosively, he hurled the ring at the wall, watching angrily as it shattered a vase. _Dray is waiting for me,_ Harry's voice whispered in his ear, and screaming again, Sev dumped over a nearby desk. He should've known! He'd _seen_ them kissing in the Great Hall! He had _trusted_ the two younger boys. He'd _trusted_ them.

Ten minutes later, rage spent, he collapsed in the middle of the wreckage of his once pristine room. Shaking hands administered the only potion to have survived his wrath. Wrapping his arms around himself, he huddled on the floor. And for the first time since he was five, Severus Snape cried.

It wasn't until the next morning that the Great Hall heard the news. Harry and Draco sat whispering at the Gryffindor table, looking entirely too comfortable with each other for Ron's peace of mind. Halfway through breakfast, a somber Headmaster stood up to address the students. Professor Snape was dead.

* * *

**Just kidding!** Sorry... You guys were all saying Harry just had to say yes, so... :laughs: We all have to get our kicks, one way or another. I'm sorry if mine are unnecessarily cruel. In any case, enjoy the _real_ chapter seven.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **Coming Closer

* * *

"Miss Weasley? What are _you_ doing here?" 

Ginny turned at the sound of her name, blinking slightly in surprise. "Oh, hello Draco." She smiled slightly at the handsome Slytherin before turning back to the school owl. "I'm sending a letter," she added as an afterthought, answering his question. "To my older brother Bill. I wanted his advice on something."

"Ah."

"What are _you_ doing up here, if I might be so bold as to stick my nose in your business? It doesn't look like you have a letter."

"Actually, I'm just here to check on my owl."

"Ooh, can I meet him?" Ginny gave Draco a brilliant smile, and received a small smirk in reply. _He's really _very_ cute, for all that he's a Slytherin. Hell, the trademark smirk is _dead_ sexy. The way the morning sun is hitting him; it looks like he's got a halo or something. Merlin, he's yummy. I wonder… I mean, Harry approves of him, so he can't be _that_ bad, regardless of what my close-minded brother would have me believe. _

"Her," Draco corrected absently, staring at the redhead with a strange look in his silver eyes. "You like animals?"

"Love 'em. They're independent, affectionate, and adorable. What's not to like?"

Draco gave her a tiny smile, then whistled sharply. She watched in delight as a small tawny owl swooped down from the upper beams of the Owlry. "This is Sorcha."

"She's _beautiful_."

"Not so much as you."

Ginny blinked and looked over at Draco with a slightly puzzled expression. No one had ever said something like that to her before. Even during her brief experimentation with dating, her boyfriends had never called her 'beautiful'. _Well, that's not entirely honest—Harry calls me beautiful, but he doesn't count. And the way Draco said it, without thinking… _"Thank you," she said softly.

"You forgot a few things when you were mentioning the merits of animals," Draco said, choosing to ignore her thanks. "They're also fierce, loyal, and keep all your secrets." He winked at her, and Ginny giggled at the mental image of Draco Malfoy telling his deepest, darkest secrets to his pretty little owl.

"Yes, well…"

**

* * *

**

You do not argue with Ginevra Weasley. It is a fact of life. Unless you are completely out of your mind, or possibly suicidal, you calmly acquiesce to anything she insists on. Most people learned that basic rule of survival early on. Gryffindors especially, for all their bravery, had just enough self-preservation to never go against anything that Ginny was dead set on.

Of course, Ron Weasley had no survival instinct to speak of. He didn't seem to comprehend this basic rule of thumb when it came to dealing with his baby sister, even though he lived with the girl and ought to know better. Maybe it was overexposure to Harry, because for as long as anyone could remember, Potter had been the only person able to argue with the youngest Weasley without fearing for life and limb. Most people figured it had to do with an unwillingness to risk damaging her husband-to-be, and Ron didn't have that protection.

There was one more person who now seemed to have immunity to the "Don't Argue with Baby Weasley" rule. Which was the reason that Ron was now playing with fire, and arguing fiercely with his little sister as they stood on opposite sides of the portrait hole, Ron barring entrance from his sister and her guest.

"Ginevra Weasley, don't you _dare_ bring that filth in here! Dump that trash back in the dungeons where you found it!" Red-faced and shaking, white fisted hands straight at his sides, Ron did _not_ make a particularly intimidating picture.

"He's not filth, Ronald, though I can't say the same about _you_ right now! You're being unbearably rude—let us in!" Ginny's eyes glinted with barely suppressed rage, and Ron had to swallow back a tinge of fear. She really did look _remarkably_ like their mother when she got it in her mind to be intimidating.

"No! That _thing_ is a _Slytherin_, if you hadn't noticed! Not to mention one that's constantly cursing me and Harry!"

"Actually," the 'piece of filth' inserted with dry amusement, "I haven't cursed you since you showed up in my territory a month ago—and that was just because I'm too polite to refuse such a wonderfully wrapped gift."

"But you don't deny cursing Harry constantly!" came the triumphant accusation.

"_Ron—_"

"Only when we're dueling." The drawled reply was slow, as if spelling something out for an abysmally slow child. Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, and put his arm around Ginny's shoulder conspiratorially. "Unfortunately, even then I have to be careful. Someone I care about would get _extremely _angry if I were to damage the boy, so permanent maiming is out of the question."

"_Draco—_" Ginny's face was heating up slightly, and Ron seemed ready to take everything Draco said in the worst way possible. Honestly—did _all_ the boys in her life have to be stubborn idiots?

"C'mon, Ginny. I told you this was a bad idea—Gryffindorks aren't about to let a snake in. I'll take you down to our dorms instead. I think you'd like Blaise a lot." Draco, arm still around Ginny's shoulder, began to draw her away from the portrait hole.

Ron was sputtering, now faced with a serious dilemma—it seemed that either way his sister intended to spend time with the blonde. The only question was whether it would be under the supervision of the Gryffindors, which meant letting _Malfoy_ into the Common Room, or whether he could allow his sister to journey alone into the pit of the snakes. It was a tough decision, but by the time he'd decided to risk letting Malfoy in, the two had already disappeared down the hallway.

**

* * *

**

Harry walked through the dungeons feeling slightly dazed. His bag had slipped so that it was hanging off his arm at a slightly uncomfortable angle, but he couldn't collect his thoughts enough to force the correct muscles into shifting the bag up to a more comfortable position. He was well and truly out of it.

As it turned out, he _hadn't_ managed to get out of Sev's chambers in time to make a trip up to the Tower worthwhile—he'd have to go straight up to breakfast. After Sev had…

He still couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened that morning. It was just so completely out of the realm of probability that it hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd _vaguely_ thought about proposing to the older man after he'd graduated. Maybe given himself another year or two to not only establish himself as a full adult in Sev's eyes, but to also possibly work on the tiny problem of a certain murdering psychopath. _I certainly thought that Sev would need a lot more convincing! I mean, I'm so much younger than he is! It doesn't bother me one whit—no one my age could even _dream_ of understanding me—but I'd thought…_

With a huge sigh, the Gryffindor managed to gather his presence of mind enough to shift his bag. He was already in the Entrance Hall, and it would probably be wise of him to be a little more in the _here and now_ when confronting his friends. Ron had probably noticed his absence from the dorm, which meant that Ron and Hermione would both be worried sick. This, of course, translated into Harry himself needing to be on his toes in order to side-step any and all questions as to his whereabouts.

_Maybe I should just tell them I had a sleepover with Draco,_ he thought with faint traces of amusement. _Ron would be so horrified at the possible implications that I wouldn't have to worry about intrusive questions for the rest of my life! And it's not like they would be willing to actually ask the Slytherins if I was telling the truth. _The absent smile on his face took on a slightly evil taint as he approached the doors to the Great Hall.

"Harry!"

Harry spun around at the sound of his name, and the absently evil smile grew. _Speak of the devil._ "Hey Gin, hey Dray. Fancy seeing you two together."

"We met up in the Owlry, and Draco introduced me to Sorcha. She's _beautiful_, Harry! Have you seen her?"

"Yeah Gin," came the rather amused reply. "I've met Draco's owl, and as much as I hate stroking the git's ego, yes, she's gorgeous."

"_Hey_ now, what do you have against my ego?"

"Nothing! I like him quite a bit when he isn't trying to bite my head off, or attempting to murder my friend by swelling your head so large I'm worried it'll explode all over those pretty silks of yours."

"So you admit that they're pretty!"

"Aw crap," Harry laughed. Ginny giggled as well, as she witnessed Harry loose a battle he'd been fighting for two weeks, ever since Draco had first gotten the new silk robes. Draco was smirking hugely, pleased to have won.

"Anyway," Ginny inserted, eyes sparkling. "Rumor has it that a certain Gryffindor Golden-Boy failed to return to his dormitory _at all_ last night. I admit to be _dying_ of curiosity—you wouldn't happen to know anything more about this strange phenomena, _hmm_ Harry?"

Harry's eyes brightened further as he thought about the previous night.

Draco nudged Ginny in the side and hissed "_afterglow_" under his breath, causing the redhead to snicker under her breath.

Harry didn't notice. "Well, since I can't have my girlfriend dying," he proclaimed lightly, "I will admit to having an anonymous source who spilled the beans to me on the whereabouts of your Missing Person."

Ginny and Draco both leaned in closer. Although loath to admit it, the Slytherin was extremely curious about the latest word on the relationship between his friend and his godfather. Other people might find a relationship like that weird, but he didn't. He only wished the two the best—of course, they'd never know that with all his teasing, but oh well.

Harry leaned in as well, until his head was between theirs, Draco on his right, Ginny on his left. "Well," he whispered into their ears, "you know it was our anniversary last night, right? So I, um," here he said something that was indiscernible because of his embarrassed coughing. Ginny and Draco exchanged an amused glance. "Anyways, so this morning we exchanged gifts," here he trailed off and pulled himself back, eyes still sparkling gleefully. There was a moment of silence while they waited for him to tell them what he'd received. Finally Draco cracked.

"Aaand?"

If he could smile any wider, Harry's face would've split in two. Silently he pulled a chain out from under his shirt, displaying his new ring on the flat of his palm. Both sets of eyes widened at the implications, and Ginny began to make a high-pitched keening sound, followed by hyperactive bouncing. Harry attempted to exchange a glance with Draco, but his other friend was also behaving oddly. (Though, Harry noted with relief, he was being _much_ less obtrusive about it.)

Suddenly, in his moment of distraction, Ginny launched herself at him, laughing gleefully. "Congrats," she whispered in his ear before pulling him in for a fervent kiss while Draco looked on with mild amusement.

**

* * *

**

A month is a very long time to wait when you're looking forward to something as much as Harry and Severus were. But it was finally here—the Seventh Years were officially graduating. By the end of the Leaving Feast, Harry and Sev would no longer have to worry about hiding their relationship from certain sets of prying eyes.

Of course, certain _other_ sets would still have to be treated with the utmost care, as Sev was still the acting spy for the Order. But, all morbid thoughts set aside for the occasion; Harry's Graduation was a wonderful landmark in their relationship.

"You excited?" Ginny whispered in Harry's ear, her eyes bright.

"Hell yes!" Harry replied in an equally hushed though excited voice. "But I'm also bloody nervous."

Ginny grinned and patted his shoulder affectionately, causing most of the people in their vicinity to throw them "oh-they're-such-a-cute-couple" looks. The morning after Harry had finally gotten his wicked way with his Potions Master, Colin Creevy had caught Ginny giving him an exuberant congratulations kiss—on the lips, of course—which, again of course, set off the gossip chain. Now the entire school _knew_ that Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter _were_ the couple everyone had thought them to be for the past six years.

Harry didn't really care—_he_ definitely appreciated the fact that the girls finally got the hint that "no" really _did_ mean "no, I am _not_ interested in being your boyfriend, thankyouverymuch." It also meant that no one even suspected that something might be going on between him and a male professor.

Ginny didn't really care either, thankfully. She wasn't particularly interested in dating, especially after living with seven males. "I'll marry when I'm ready." She had told Harry cheerfully when he voiced his concern over the rumors severely limiting her options. "And until the day I finally meet a guy worth liking who prefers the female sex—which I'm starting to think unlikely, as the only decent guys seem to be gay or twice my age—then I'm perfectly happy to be thought the girlfriend of the Wizarding World's darling. Hey, how many girls can honestly—or dishonestly, in my case—claim to have caught the eye of Harry Potter, Boy Wonder?" Her logic was, as always, as impeccable as it was amusing.

"Besides," he'd even gotten her to admit later, "to tell you the truth, I've set my sights on someone who already knows the situation." So girlfriend and boyfriend they continued to be, as far as the rest of the world was concerned. _They_ didn't act any different, and they were already so used to the teasing and catcalls that having Colin's 'photographic evidence' hardly mattered.

So here they were, sitting side by side in the Great Hall, waiting for Harry's name to be called. Hermione and Ron sat directly beside them, hands clasped lovingly together. When she saw Harry and Ginny whispering together, Hermione sent them a conspiratorial wink, before turning her attention back up towards Dumbledore. _I_

_t's sad,_ Harry thought as he looked at his friends. _We used to be _so_ close, and now… We're acquaintances who know a lot about each other. I'm happy for them, but at the same time… It's just sad. I mean, sure we'll keep in touch, but we'll never be as close as we were, and it's not all their fault. I'm keeping some pretty hefty secrets._ Although he'd broken down and admitted to being gay, he hadn't told either of them that he was in love with Professor Snape. It had taken Ron enough time to adjust to the fact he was gay, and Harry hadn't really wanted to push his luck. Besides, Ginny and Draco both knew, which meant that he already had two someones to babble incessantly at.

Because babble he had, as often as he could. The early morning talks that had marked his friendship with Ginny since the Chamber of Secrets incident quickly became 'I love Sev' chatter time for Harry. They still talked about other things, of course—but Severus Snape was definitely Harry's favorite topic, and Ginny didn't begrudge him at all. After all, he needed to tell _someone_ or he would explode, as he had observed when he first confessed.

And now he was graduating.

But he wasn't paying enough attention to the ceremony, as Ginny's sharp prod indicated. His name was just rolling off the Headmaster's lips, and Harry stood. This was it. After this, he was free of constraints. As he accepted the Dumbledore's congratulations, he met Severus's proud gaze. Almost there.

* * *

The Leaving Feast was the most spectacular feast that Harry had ever attended. Although logically he knew it was exactly the same as every single Leaving Feast since he was eleven, somehow knowing it was their last together as a class made it something special. 

Those in the younger years watched with slight amusement as the Seventh Years sobbed their way through the Feast, hugging, kissing, and making promises to keep in touch. Sometime around halfway, Draco and Blaise made their way over to the Gryffindor table. Soon, following their example, all the Seventh Years were mingling together despite house boundaries.

"Looks like you've started a fad!" Ginny teased.

"Well who _wouldn't_ want to follow my lead?" The imperious toss of the head and quirking of the eyebrow made Harry and Blaise both chuckle.

"Is he _always_ like this?" Harry asked the dark Slytherin. "Or do we Gryffindors bring out the ass in him?"

Ron and Hermione still seemed slightly uneasy about their Slytherin guests, but they managed to ignore them admirably. When some of their Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff acquaintances drifted over, they were able to almost forget they were there at all.

Too soon for most people's liking, the Feast drew to an end, and Dumbledore stood. Several of the 'travelers' who were at other tables looked around nervously as if trying to decide whether they ought to move back. Draco and Blaise didn't bother, merely settling more firmly into their chosen seats. No one moved, and those still standing sat down quickly, regardless of what table they were by.

Most of Dumbledore's speech was fairly standard, especially when he got to the part where he awarded the House Cup. Draco and Harry were looking at each other competitively, trying to glare the other into submission.

"In fourth place, with 362 points, Hufflepuff!" There was polite clapping from all the tables. "In third, with 397 points, Ravenclaw!" More polite clapping. An excited murmur began now, as the tension mounted. Slytherin or Gryffindor? Draco and Harry were now only inches apart, and Harry had resorted to using his lover's infamous glare. Dumbledore seemed to feel the electricity among the students, and his eyes twinkled furiously. "The first and second places was incredibly close," he began, as the murmuring became louder and the tension more pronounced. "The last two Houses avoided a tie by one point," he continued cheerfully. "In second place, with 416 points" —a healthy pause— "Slytherin!"

Whatever else the Headmaster had to say was drowned out by the furious screaming and applause that swamped the Hall. Gryffindor had won! Harry was maturely sticking out his tongue at a pouting Draco, while Blaise sighed explosively before offering resigned congratulations to the rest of the House. "We can't win every year," he explained mildly to a beaming Ginny, "it's a pity we didn't win the Cup the year we leave, but at least we whooped your ass last year!"

Finally the Hall quieted under the new red and gold banners, and the Headmaster cleared his throat to finish up his speech. "Another year has gone by," the Headmaster announced wistfully. "And it's time to once again depart from our wonderful school. For those of you who will not be returning, we wish you the best of luck with the rest of your lives. Have a wonderful summer everyone, enjoy yourselves and stay safe."

Harry's group exchanged a heavy glance. _Stay safe_. Even now, the threat of Voldemort loomed overhead.

* * *

**The End **(Sort of) 

**Next Chapter: Epilogue**


	8. Of Luck and Silk Pants

**Epilogue: **Slow Dance

* * *

There was a party planned for Harry and his friends at Headquarters later that night. It would be part congratulations on graduating, and part congratulations on their induction into the Order of the Phoenix. The gathering was fairly small, and only the inner members had been invited. The Weasley clan was present—even Ginny, though she couldn't become a member yet, to her intense disappointment. 

Dumbledore, McGonagall—_call me Minerva, you aren't in school anymore_—and Snape—_don't you dare call me by my given name, you little brats_—were all there. Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher and Remus Lupin rounded out the group as the only other members who could make it. The new initiates would be introduced to the full Order at the next meeting, but until then they were going to celebrate.

Harry smiled encouragingly at Draco, whom he insisted be given the option of joining the Order. Severus backed his decision and Dumbledore had quickly capitulated, much to Hermione and Ron's trepidation. A mini Death Eater in the _Order_? However, when they voiced their uncertainty they were met with the steely glare of the resident spy and immediately shut up. Sev's glares were potent, even without the threat of detention backing them.

"Harry, congratulations!"

"Thanks Moony." Harry smiled slightly as he was engulfed in the older man's hug. "You've met Draco before, right?"

Remus smiled lightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again Mr. Malfoy."

Draco gave a tight smile as he shook Remus's hand. "Please sir, just Draco. I renounced my family a while back, and they responded in kind."

The werewolf looked slightly unsure how to respond, so Harry swept his blonde friend along with a wave to his old professor. Everyone was gathered in the sitting room area. The furniture was pushed up against the walls, and quiet music drifted through the room.

"It seems as if there ought to be dancing," Harry commented with an amused expression. Several people looked quite taken with this idea, and Ron immediately turned to Hermione. Harry and Draco exchanged a look and a small laugh.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks chirped, popping up beside his elbow. "Dance with me?"

"I'd love to," Harry grinned at the (currently) blue haired witch, "but only under one condition." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You have to be shorter than me."

The last part was said with such a wistful expression that it was all Draco could do not to burst into gales of laughter. The green-eyed boy glared at him balefully.

"Hey, shut up, you! It's not nice to make fun of the vertically challenged."

After a bit of easy bantering, Harry allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor by a now several inches shorter Tonks—who still was only just his height, Draco noted wryly. _It's a good thing he likes men, because he'd have had a hell of a time finding a shorter girl._

Soon Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were also dancing, as were Dumbledore and McG—Minerva. Draco chuckled as he watched Tonks dip Harry. They'd given up trying to actually dance, as Tonks was too clumsy and Harry didn't know how. Instead they were trying to be absurd as possible, much to the audience's amusement. _It's a pity that there's a shortage of women,_ Draco thought dryly as he looked around at the nine other males standing in a loose circle, observing the dancers.

"You look like you want to dance." He spun slightly at the sound of the soft voice, only to be met with a pair of sparkling brown eyes. Without a word, Draco offered the beautiful redhead his elbow. He held his breath as she smiled before accepting it. Together, they joined the other couples.

"Ah, hang it, George!" came a slightly disgruntled voice in the audience. "I want to _dance._"

"Why, my dearest brother, how sweet of you to ask!"

"I just couldn't hold it in any longer, I'm afraid. Love is in the air, and I think it's making me sick."

Draco snickered as the twins grabbed each other and began trying to copy their mother and father, apparently having difficulties deciding who was the "girl" and who was the "boy". Fred insisted _he_ was the boy, because _he_ had been the one to request the dance. George insisted _he_ was the boy, because _he_ had been the one man enough to accept.

"Your brothers are something…special."

"No kidding! And you don't have to _live_ with them."

Draco's artistic shudder spoke volumes, and Ginny giggled before snuggling closer. Draco smiled. She was the perfect size to lay her head on his shoulder and tuck under his chin. _A perfect fit—that's rare. I wonder…_

The song ended and they both seemed slightly reluctant to pull away. "I claim another dance, firecat." The whisper was soft, but by Ginny's flush she'd heard it. Her smile acknowledged it before she was whisked into her brother Bill's arms.

Draco stood at the sidelines once again, watching with amusement as the others partnered up. Mrs. Weasley was dancing with Mad-Eye, while Mr. Weasley sat out. Hermione had agreed to a dance with Remus, and McGon—Minerva was being propositioned by Charlie. Tonks deposited a slightly out of breath Harry beside Draco, then whisked Mundungus Fletcher onto the floor. The twins continued together, seemingly deciding to alternate leads. George was currently the girl.

"You looked mighty cozy with my baby sister," Harry finally stated with an icy tone. Draco turned to stare at him with surprise. A crimson blush stole across his cheeks, and Harry cracked up. "Sorry Dray, just had to see how you'd react."

Putting on a slightly affronted expression, Draco started to berate his friend, but was stopped by the dark shadow of his godfather stepping into view. "Potter."

Everybody was watching, and Remus in particular looked as if he wished he wasn't currently occupied so that he could go over and moderate.

"Professor."

No one but the two men knew quite what to expect next, though Ginny and Draco could each hazard a very close guess. Hermione and Dumbledore both expected something along the lines of a quick handshake, and Hermione even dared to hope for a nod of recognition. Fred and George were taking bets on who would survive the confrontation.

"You survived. I'm horrified, but impressed. I believe congratulations are in order."

"You survived as well, so I suppose the congratulations go both ways."

"Hmm. Though I survived through experience and intelligence, versus your sheer dumb luck."

"You're probably right." A warm smile stole over his face, surprising the observers. "But you want to know what's luckiest of all?"

"That I intend to prevent you from saying the cheesiest line you possibly could, by insisting you dance?"

"That works."

Draco and Ginny both chuckled softly as the two made their way onto the dance floor. Immediately the area around them cleared, but neither seemed to mind. Harry laid his head on Severus's chest, loving the way his head fit perfectly under his lover's chin.

_Another perfect fit, _Draco noted detachedly, keener on watching the reactions of those around him than the two men slowly revolving in the middle of the room. He'd seen them get all lovey-dovey before, so this wasn't anything new. He was far more interested in observing the observers.

The twins were apparently gob smacked, as they'd stopped dancing. Bill, too, was staring oddly, though Ginny was forcing him to keep dancing, which meant he had to keep turning his head at odd angles to observe the couple. Charlie and Minerva were absently rocking back and forth in an odd parody of dancing, both focusing instead on the otherworldly image of the two men. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing quietly on Moody's shoulder, and Mr. Weasley was blinking rapidly. Remus looked as if he, too, was about to cry. The twins quickly got over their shock and began trying to copy the other male-male pair, whispering about how it was _supposed_ to look.

His favorite reactions, however, were from Harry's "best friends" and the Headmaster. Hermione was standing with her hands limply hanging by her sides, partner forgotten. She stared across the room, seeming to look right through the couple dominating the dance floor. Ron was wearing a blatant "you're out of your bloody mind" expression, and looked slightly green around the edges. Dumbledore, however… Draco was sure that Harry and Sev would take the same grim satisfaction that he did, that even the infamously meddlesome Headmaster looked floored by the completely unexpected turn of events.

_Take that, old man!_

It took two more songs, but soon other people were really dancing again. One more, and Sev led Harry off the floor, gently offering to go grab them both something to drink, to which Harry flashed a grateful smile. Draco watched the interaction with secret pleasure. He'd gotten used to them acting like a couple in the past two months—it made him extremely happy that they felt they could act naturally amongst others, too.

By the end of the night, Harry and Severus had both received congratulations from most of those present. Ginny had given Harry another—this time more chaste—kiss, and had stood on her tip toes to extend the same honor to Severus, though she only kissed him on the cheek. After that display of acceptance, all the Weasleys (bar one) extended the hand of friendship. Ron retained his "what the fuck" expression and avoided both like the plague.

**

* * *

**

The party hadn't died down until one in the morning, by which time Harry and Severus had both disappeared. Judging by the strong silencing wards around Severus's room, no one really wanted to know the details. Breakfast the next morning was a lazy affair, and no one really emerged until around noon.

"G'morning," Harry yawned from the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily, then running his hand through his hair.

"Morning!" Ginny chirped, smiling as she took in his current state of dress. Or, more accurately, _half_ dress—he wasn't wearing a shirt, only a pair of long black silk pants that tied around his waist with a drawstring. _And judging by the way they're bunched around the ankle,_ she noted with amusement, _they aren't his._

A surprised and slightly annoyed yell from upstairs a few minutes later confirmed her assumption, and she giggled. Across the table Draco ducked his head to hide his own laughter as Harry flopped down next to him, ignoring the shouted expletive from a moment ago. The three teenagers began to talk easily, as the few others awake at the time exchanged slightly uncomfortable glances.

Finally Remus's curiosity and concern got the best of him. "Harry," he began, frowning. "How long have… You and Severus…"

Harry shrugged, scooting his eggs around on his plate for a minute before replying. "We've been friends for two years and dating for a year and a month."

Remus choked on his coffee, misinterpreting the statement. "He's been screwing you for that long?"

Harry stilled, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "First," he spat, eyes narrowing to mere slits. "I fail to see how it's any of your business. Secondly, as I'm over the age of consent, it really doesn't _matter_ what you think. However, because Severus is honorable and I'm not about to tarnish his reputation—no, he has not been 'screwing me,' as you so eloquently put it, for that long. If you really want the details of our sex life…"

Standing up abruptly, he abandoned his eggs in favor of searching out 'better company,' ie Severus. Draco and Ginny both glared at Remus, who looked slightly shocked at Harry's burst of temper. _Serves him right._

**

* * *

**

An hour or so later, Ginny went up to find Harry lounging alone in Snape's room. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back indolently. He was still wearing the black silk pants, much to Ginny's amusement.

"Grown attached to Snape's pants?" she inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

"Mhmm," came the absent reply. "They look better on him, but it's amusing to know he isn't wearing anything under his robes. Makes him seem more approachable, you know?" At Ginny's brilliant blush and spluttering cough he laughed. "Actually, I'm wearing them because they're extraordinarily comfortable and they were the first thing I grabbed off the floor this morning. Sev said I could keep them if I liked them so much, as he has several similar pairs." He waited until the blush died somewhat before adding, "and because it's easy to give him mind boggling blow jobs when I'm wearing his pants."

"Harry!" she squeaked, blushing even brighter, "you _do_ realize that I'm _never_ going to be able to look at the Professor again without hearing you say that!"

"I'm sure it'll make for some interesting Potions classes," he drawled. His only reply was a pillow to the head.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this story. For those of you who did not read the original version, I thank you for taking the time to experiment with my writing. For those who did read the original, thank you very much for sticking with me. I'm very flattered you would read my story again. You probably noticed that not a whole lot is changed. I found less discrepancies than I expected, to be honest. 

Anyways, this story arc is continued in the story **Blood Gifted**, the first few chapters of which are already posted, so you don't even have to wait!


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